They planned to take a road trip to the coast.
Pandemic urged them turn away from flights
and places crowds buy tickets for, and most
amusements that had long-bestowed delights.
But then the chance of accident made toast
of their intentions. Folks who harbored frights
of shots or press got sick and took each bed,
and now the wise are staying home instead.
(Ottava Rima)
I’m generally prudent and well-planned,
but I was sometimes foolish in the past.
And though I aged and came to understand
myself enough to mend – one vice did last
too long by any measure I have used.
I smoked, although I knew it would speed death.
I cared for mind and muscle but abused
my bronchia, till I grew short of breath.
My body signaled well, but I ignored
the message soon as I felt some relief.
I knew if I got cancer I’d be floored
with shame – embarrassment might outrun grief.
I’ve given up for good – I’m ready, late,
to read the book and try to bend my fate.
The top of our recycle bin was bent.
I thought we’d need replacement, and I’d call,
but then somebody fixed it – someone meant
a spot of sense and kindness after all.
And then I left a purchase at the store –
a perfect avocado missed my pack.
The clerk chased after me, and showed me more
than produce as she smiling gave it back.
And yesterday I saw two tradesmen climb
to unattach the neighbor’s ugly screens,
replacing them in 15 minutes time
with less offensive versions – all which means
that courtesy’s alive and not as stressed
as news reports and pessimists suggest.
I rose today with nothing on my list.
There was no ask or task I had to meet.
I forced myself to move, but vigor missed
the mark – my energy was in retreat.
I’ll see a friend this afternoon – my feet
may take me to that loving rendezvous,
but that’s the most I’m likely to get through.
(Rhyme Royal)
It happens every time, but I’m surprised
that I can wake unmotivated, sore,
until my body has been exercised,
on stationary bike seat or the floor.
It’s how I get attention organized,
and organs worked with skeleton for sure.
I start each day in neutral atmosphere,
until I feel my will click into gear.
(Ottava Rima)
For 14 years I’ve lived in this back yard.
Accustomed to its fauna and inured
to critter evidence, still this is hard.
It’s sadder than a headless hummingbird,
and more upsetting than a ‘possum, dead
upon the deck and in the rain.
At 9 a.m. I chanced to turn my head,
and now a dying skunk has filled my brain.
Peripheral the vision was at first.
I noted at my left the black-and-white.
His ribcage moved but I assumed the worst,
and looking closer then, I got the sight
of final breath, his eye about to dim.
I said goodbye and now I’m mourning him.
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.
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