lawn
With sparkling bits of ice.
Now I must make my bed
And sleep, for I am old,
Too old for rose red skies
That reek of inflamed lust.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Red-Winged Blackbird
My native fields were fenced
In wire and post, and thereon
Blackbirds frequently roosted
Declaring boundaries
No other bird should pass.
She was fond of them,
My mother’s grandmother,
Recalling how they sang
In the Kansas fields she knew
As a child. The sweet recall
Of happy days brought smiles
To her face and light to her eyes,
And I was privileged to see
The girl inside the woman.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Coulter’s Daisies
Small purple daisies near timberline
On wiry stems with hairy leaves
Nod greeting to the paintbrush flowers
Each time the breeze passes. No pine
Forest there. It’s fir and spruce
Above the aspen groves and parks,
Above the range of deer and elk
Where marmots play and pikas retire
At night. Ahead one saw the pass
Between two peaks and the winding trail
To the other side of the mountain range.
I walked the trail through talus and grass
In the long ago when she still reigned,
And held my affections tightly chained.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Uncompanioned
The laughing boy
And giggling girl
Frolic on the coverlets.
They play
All unaware
Death’s shadow hangs
Somber over them. As all
Of us
Have lived our lives
Ignoring death,
Have we excuse to mock them
For this?
I grieve the loss
Of ignorance.
Death surrounds me with its pall
Of gloom.
I’ve no lover
Spouse or other
To frolic with on a bed.
Alone
I sleep and wake
Uncompanioned
Except for the cat and dogs
Most hours.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Quetzalcoatl
Long ago in Mexico
The Aztec reigned supreme, empowered
By Quetzalcoatl, serpent god
Adorned with feathers, white of skin,
Destined to be the morning star.
Cortez came over the sea
And marched to Tenochtitlan City.
Poor Aztecs gave their gold and silver
Believing Cortez was their god
Newly returned to lead the folk.
Gulled by the cruel Conquistador
Cholula nobles died in blood,
A Spanish sacrifice of hearts.
And then Cortez took Tenochtitlan
And burned it down. Old history,
A testament to human pride
Run amok, a lesson for all.
Preserve me, Quetzalcoatl god,
From Cortez and his ruthless kind.
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Hurrah
Hurrah for lovers young and free,
Two who sit with their hands and hearts
Joined they hope for eternity,
Or at least for a lifetime it should be
Their prime connection with another,
The other with whom they share the bother
Life brings to all its moving parts.
Hurrah for lovers old and wise,
Who have a long practice of love
To season their romantic play
With all the memories that rise.
May those whose loves are in the grave
Rest assured of reunion someday.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Conundrum
She I wed I hold a riddle.
At times I grieve her betrayal of me,
At other times I joy in her leaving.
Had she not left, I might never have found
The man who brought me out of myself
And became the mainstay of my life.
I search my soul, and find two minds:
Remembering she left me for
Other men I generate
Great rage, but on the other hand,
Had she not left I’d never had
The joy of living life with Ken.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Beach Summer
Summer boys in Speedos tan
In the sun reflected from the sea.
Bikini-clad the girls have run
Through the surf so merrily.
Now the sharks swim down the beaches
Overhead a seagull screeches;
She lost,
Great cost!
Fish she liked to eat the most.
Pinnipeds have waddled up
Onto the sand to mate their kind,
Or perhaps to drowse and sleep,
Or enjoy the cooling breath of wind
Blowing from the white-topped ocean
Where the waves are in constant motion
And there
Boys wear
Speedos with a youthful flair.
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Oyster Girl
Little lady why
Do you stand long hours to shuck
The hard-shelled oysters?
Does your knife slip sometimes?
Are your feet tired at day’s end?
Oyster girl, do you
Eat the mollusks you shuck
With a fiery sauce,
Do you fry them with batter,
Or do you never eat oysters?
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
I Wonder
I wonder as I wander the roadways
Why leaves drop in forests and water
Flows downhill. I never get answers.
The makers of the cosmos are silent.
No matter. The day and the evening
Come ‘round in due course as always.
I wander the roadways and wonder
About the inquiries unanswered
By cosmos-making celestials.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Irises
The irises are blooming now
In this foreign place I live. At home
The irises would bloom in May.
We cut them from the flower garden
And took them to the cemetery
To decorate the graves of our dead.
Other folk have died since then.
They lie in places where flowers are banned,
Unless they are of the plastic kind.
How odd it is to see the iris
Bloom blue and white and black and yellow
And know they will not decorate
The graves of my ancestors or kin
Or any other’s dear departed.
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Tell Me Tales
Tell me tales of pirate ships.
Sing me songs of outer space.
Tumble stories from your lips.
Tell me wonders that will amaze.
Never fear, for I will hearken
‘Till the eastern heavens darken
And night
Grows bright
With the moon’s white light.
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The Boy’s Sparrow (After Catullus’ Poem 3)
My boy has lost his sparrow; it is dead.
&
nbsp; The bird beguiled his idle hours with chirps
And fluttered wings. My poor boy lies abed
Mourning his loss; to him it’s so severe,
It upends his equanimity. It usurps
The quiet of his mind with deep despair.
The sparrow lies in a shallow grave all cold,
Melding with earth and dust, a fate we all
Shall have in our turn. I came to him with beer.
He waved me away and almost began to scold,
Then turned his face toward the boudoir wall,
Too sad to talk, almost too sad to weep
Withdrawing himself into a mental shell
And drifting off into a troubled sleep.
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Ancestors
I shall not mourn them,
The ancestors long deceased.
Of age or ills or boredom,
Or accidents of some kind.
They lie peacefully
In scattered graveyards across
The country’s Midwest
Not turning to haunting their kin.
I’m glad they sleep undisturbed.
Their struggles are done,
Their birthing and their wedding
Dramas are finished.
Do not disturb their resting;
They earned eternal repose.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
The Cuckoos
In old Japan the cuckoos
Carried messages
From living folk to dead ones.
At least the Shinto priests
Believed it true, and so,
I suspect, did Buddhist monks,
And common folks as well.
I’d send a message now
To my well-loved departed,
If cuckoos were near me.
Only jays and robins
Reside near me. Not even
A clock with cuckoos near,
I fear, not even kindred
Roadrunners live near me.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
Clouds Ride the Wind
Clouds ride the wind with skill and grace.
The sun has hid its smile
Behind the racing clouds for now.
And the moon and stars are pale
With fear of storms and wind and rain.
It shall not last forever.
The clouds shall flee on the racing wind
And think themselves so clever.
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The Small Rain
The small rain down may rain.
The ocean’s breath is cold
With damp and smells of salt.
The small rain breathes the air,
Water-laden, that the seas
Cast in the wind and send
Across the rocky shores
That gird them round with cliffs.
Rain on us, lest we wither
Parched as corn on a cob.
Rain down small rain; refresh
Us. Do not drown us, we ask.
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Pindaric Ode
Invoke Olympian gods and goddesses
Or use the charms your deities require
To celebrate the victors’ winning ways
In games of skill; now praise
The young men in their prime of life,
Who run and jump
Delighting in their youthful glory days.
Do not bow down to salaries and fame
Not earned by practicing athletic skill.
Instead rejoice in watching those who earn
Their laurels