
September 6 is
Summer still. Against my face
a breeze recalls Fall.

I never dreamed I’d have a thought like this.
The question never rose until this week.
A proud American, how did I miss
the cowardice, the rampant lies? We speak
of values, heroism, how to live,
but all we see’s venality and more.
I wonder as I’m trying to forgive,
without the Revolutionary War,
how would the present be? How well the earth,
if our estates had not been given birth?

This little cottage suits my need for space,
and privacy and pleasure for each sense.
I saw, I bought, I moved into the place,
and though I spent a little for some fence,
I haven’t added screens. When heat’s intense
I open doors – my insect issue’s small –
unscreened I get a hole in one big wall.
(Rhyme Royal)

I’m sure you’ve known some couples like his folks –
long-married, incompatible, and old,
no longer sharing attitudes or jokes,
their interactions silent, often cold.
The husband seems an easy-going guy.
The wife appears judgmental, brusque, or sad.
You wonder they’re together – how and why
does he put up with her and not go mad?
I wondered too, until I posed the thought
problem – how would my present be, if I
had stuck it out? What would those years have brought?
I gave the question time, and said “Oh my,”
for what I saw was me embittered so,
outsiders questioned why he didn’t go.

I didn’t like the book. I disagreed
with where it moved and what that pathway meant.
I never would have chosen it to read,
but that’s how then the school assignments went.
That’s roughly when my passion stirred to mark
the character of citizens around.
I aimed to catch our symptoms, light and dark,
and childish behavior’s what I found.
Exuberant and fanciful we are,
attracted to rambunctiousness and play.
We innovate, make movies, plunder far,
and shouldn’t run with scissors, night or day.
Of late we’re seeing how the future skids,
when super power’s wielded by the kids.

Quad-ruled has been my paper choice for years –
canary yellow if available.
The quarter inch of grid-marking endears
it to my eye and renders flexible
the layout of a flowchart or a list.
It’s doodle-useful and invites my pen,
but lately marketing has made a twist –
I’m having trouble finding them again.
Our recent purchase only has the grid
upon the recto side. The back is blank.
Was this mistake or thrift? Does price forbid
the ink on verso – is this goof or prank?
I always used the front and back, you see.
These newer pages tend to stymie me.

Eleven years ago, when I began,
I fretted it would take up too much time
responding to each comment from a fan
(I thought that ere I ever published rhyme).
My daughter laughed – she knew how thin the scan,
reminding me a poem won’t earn a dime,
advising me to post without concern.
There’s freedom in obscurity, I’d learn.
(Ottava Rima)

I woke improved in back but at loose ends.
My early morning path was no more clear
than smoky sky above and murky trends
of culture skirting chaos, hemming fear.
I wanted to depart by 10, from here,
to travel west for toddler play and love.
My exercise to stretch and get in gear
took 30 minutes to produce the shove.
(Huitain)