Reviewing poems I wrote 2 years ago,
recording state of muscles, vigor, skin,
and skeleton, those iambs did bestow
a roster of impressions on my age.
I never guessed, so little did I know,
the benefits from yoga every day.
At home, at ease, I regain poise and glow.
It’s like I found the perfect medicine –
that costs but 20 minutes to inflow.
I’ll not complain, although I may imply
I would prefer less dates to entertain
me, after bidding relatives goodbye.
I’ll not complain.
The visit was my pleasure – even rain
and ice could not deter my choice to fly.
But five succeeding meals out were a strain.
I would have rather spaced them, but to vie
for rainchecks would be graceless – I’ll refrain.
It’s hectic but no schedule I’ll defy.
I’ll not complain.
Arriving home at 25 to 6,
I feed them as a form of self-defense.
At nearly 3 and 7, I must fix
a healthy snack or chaos will commence.
An offer of whole fruit won’t work – the trick’s
a little preparation – bringing sense
of sight and ease and whimsy to the plate,
inviting little hands to celebrate.
The doors stayed on the airplane. We were fine.
The flight attendant kept on pouring wine.
The pamphlet read B Max and 8 slash 9,
but worry wasn’t any trend of mine.
I didn’t get a sense of poor design.
This daily yoga works like medicine –
it makes me heed the status of my head
and heart; it eases aches in skeleton,
and limbers me for all the moves ahead.
It seems to fuel me more than any bread.
I wish the folks I care for would attend
to words I say that gently recommend
they take the mat themselves. But I recall
my daughter had to urge three times, to bend
my will to try this practice, after all.
Two score and thirteen years ago, your rent
was low, your spirits high, your windows stuck.
You lived with love that seemed intelligent,
but when it failed you fled with “what the fuck.”
You didn’t note good bones or what it meant
to rehabilitate – you blamed bad luck.
You might instead have worked a long game well,
and earned a satisfying place to dwell.
I arrow south at 40,000 feet,
my path an arc between two rainy sites.
A four day four night visit is complete,
and busy dates ahead mean I’ll unpack
my things but not the love or each conceit
collected while away and stirred afresh.
The variance from icy cold to heat
and comfort, idle days and movie nights,
requires time cementing to concrete.
Succeeding our adventure in the freeze,
commuting icy, waiting for a bus
in wind that nearly knocked us to our knees,
and anxious after with the tire fuss
(for no one could respond to succor us),
we lost some sleep and didn’t venture far;
we called repeatedly about the car;
we tried to cheer until we cheered for real.
The flat repaired, we went to RRR,
and then we savored a rewarding meal.
The ice is still persistently around,
but possibly diminished overnight.
It’s milk-glass sheets of white upon the ground,
and sparkles golden when the sunset light
illuminates tree branches, glitter-bright,
inviting eye and camera lens. Some rain
is forecasted to cause a melt. That might
afford a way to catch my homebound plane.
The travel to the north was smooth, except
the bus app made me do an extra stroll,
and then I lost the bumbershoot I kept
in netty outside pocket. Soft control
security I breezed instead of crept,
and turbulence was gentle rock and roll.
But moving here on ground exacts a price,
for where we are is paralyzed by ice.
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