When I was young, I wondered what I’d be
when I grew up, but never for how long.
Perhaps I’d write or learn philosophy…
When I was young I wondered what I’d be:
a master of marine biology?
My passions were diversified but strong
when I was young; I wondered what I’d be
when I grew up, but never for how long.
(Triolet)
The weather is the first thing on my mind
when I get up, if no catastrophe
demands attention urgently from me.
I peer outside and read an app to find
what’s needed and what I can leave behind,
to venture out. The main concern for me?
The weather.
But I’m a short-term creature. Humankind
has not evolved to think on history,
anticipate, divert adversity,
or plumb the ways our customs have designed
the weather.
(Rondine)
I always thought I’d marry and give birth,
but didn’t know I’d wed at 22.
And though we didn’t plan, one New Year’s mirth
produced a Virgo girl with eyes of blue
and ash-blonde hair, like no one in my clan.
When 5 years passed we had our little man,
and then divorced, and mostly after that
I balanced like a frantic acrobat.
I never worked a harder job. At last
both kids were launched to work and love and strive.
Each married well and seemed to learn to thrive,
returning love to me. Their ways surpassed
my expectations. Glad to be alive,
next year they’ll introduce grandchild 5.
(Pushkin Sonnet)
Encountering evisceration of a hummingbird
(its guts a ruby hue, its head apart),
in less than half a second, half a step, the thought occurred:
the neighbor’s cat had stopped a tiny heart.
And then I spied that feline beast of ebony and black –
he crouched and peered beneath an SUV,
and almost looked ashamed (it might have been a cheap attack –
too easy to build notoriety).
I nudged the parts to join some plants that acted like a berth
(the severed head was light as lint, and slow).
A grave seemed inappropriate: recycle in the earth
could help a scavenger or blossom grow.
I mourned a bit and questioned if the corpse should be interred,
until my yard received, alive, another hummingbird.
The at-home exercise began when I
was 35, recovered from a spell
of injury, and gave I can’t deny
some benefits I never felt so well.
Increasing time and changing how I moved,
I went from half an hour in the eve
to twice that every morning, and improved
my stamina and attitude. Believe
me or dispute what I assert – I won’t
attempt to sell my way or counsel you.
I exercise as gift to me, and don’t
desire that you share my point of view.
(Some mornings I’d prefer to skip a day –
I’m always glad I did it anyway.)
It’s obvious he thought he’d never win.
He tossed a clown hat at us to begin,
and aimed for national publicity
without a clue to what the job would be.
He played a game in which he had no skin.
He cannot solve a problem, but he’ll spin
repeated lies ad lib, with nasty grin
and no intelligence or strategy.
It’s obvious.
He will not work. He will not read. The din
is empty noise and so it’s ever been.
We can’t allow him any legacy,
except for record-breaking calumny
and failure to surmount his origin.
It’s obvious.
(Rondeau)
Although the count was high, I left my space.
I needed crackers for my favorite three-
year old – the cheddar goldfish with a face
that make his own light up in pleasure’s beam.
As I approached the street, I saw a trace
upon the path – like dander from the trees –
that made me, sobered, halt my forward pace.
Then I took in the tiny casualty:
today this ground’s a hummer’s resting place.
(Magic 9)
I’m not a fan of meat. I never wish
for steak or dogs, and I don’t crave a dish
of stew. My mother cooked and tried to feed
me flesh – I never cared for more than fish.
My favorite meals are based on nuts and seeds
and vegetables. I satisfy my need
for protein with legumes and dairy fare,
and covet avocado halves with greed.
My brother raises food with feet: a pair
of cows, some pigs, and lots of poultry share
his pasture till he slaughters them to freeze
his future meals. But now he’s in the flare
of fire: poison air and scary breeze.
His farm is safe but power’s off. Degrees
increase, and I admit anxieties –
concerned about those carnal calories.
I told my brother and I told my mom,
four years ago, when all were blown away,
when voting tallies hit us like a bomb –
“There will not be a wall.” That dreadful day
was just an introduction to the mess
our culture would experience: the shock
and depredation, everyday distress –
too facile and too horrible to mock.
I’m back to reassuring them again.
He won’t be reelected – people thought
he might be a refreshing change back then,
but now all know the travesties he’s wrought,
how big his lies, how all his aims are mean,
and no, we won’t soon have a safe vaccine.
Remember when the sun appeared each day?
When sky at 2 p.m. was nothing strange?
I understand the cause with full dismay:
the term for it of late is climate change.
We saw it coming 60 years ago.
My father gave me Silent Spring to read,
and woke me to ecology. I know
too much of how this sequence must proceed.
And yet, there still are morons who proclaim
that facts are only guesses, and what’s worse,
our culture grants them air time, press, and fame.
The bad decisions made, we can’t reverse
the dread effects produced by selfish cause:
the consequence of breaking natural laws.
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