Monday, August 21, 2017

Looking towards the sun - a solar eclipse


After inhaling the Moon Pies and donning
my snazzy eclipse glasses,
both compliments of my employer,
I gazed up at the sun,
first a small bite at the edge missing,
then sucessively larger dark bites
until only a thin crescent of sun was visible.
the crows did caw in the diminished light
(or perhaps they always do)
in the last hour, the crooked smile of the crescent 
rotated counterclockwise until it finally
opened to a wide grin and the sun reappeared
as round and bright as ever.
Afterwards, we wandered back to our offices
with stiff necks, eclipse glasses in hand,
perhaps wondering if we should have gone
to Wyoming to see the full eclipse.
Maybe next time.

Sunday, August 20, 2017

In the dressing room


don't look too carefully in the dressing room,
a sideways glance is good enough to decide
and I said yes
yes to stripes and corrugation
to red, black and white, to a silky black top
at 40% off, affordable.
it's summer and I'm wearing the same style
of sandal as K, who advised me never to 
wear a T-shirt again
at my age, I guess I should have known better
how difficult and tortuous is the path
to adulthood and beyond.

Thursday, August 17, 2017

on the bus


on the bus home,
really, home, where there's blueberries
in the side yard, and stacks of cucumbers,
tomatoes on the vine,
a black dog who won't bother to greet me.
there will be a husband who will hug me
and a bed covered with his clothing and 
dirty socks and I'll throw them off the other side.
home is where I belong,
in spite of the black dog who never bothers
to say hello, and the clothes
and dirty dishes.
home is where I belong.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

please


please give me a treat 
if I'm good, I'll be good, I'll
walk by your side, I'll do whatever
a dog can do.
please take me for a walk,
I like to pee on the bushes
and  mark where the deer have 
left their scat, I'll come
back whenever you have a treat 
in your hand.
I am a simple soul to love
with my wagging tail and 
liquid eyes, my furry body
and my affectionate for you.
love me, give me a treat,
I'll love you back.

Tuesday, August 15, 2017

A new phase in life


she will make new friends, she says,
the woman in pink was a private pilot and 
flew all over with her husband, Hank, now 
gone on to his greater rewards.
Florence used to say that.
She's a spritely 90 and will show the way.
Alice in the flowered shirt says she never
did anything interesting but I don't believe her.
they both talk and hear well, 
lunch was delicious.
yes, here she's in her wheelchair but we
left it behind three hours later when she
moved from being Nurse Ratchett's charge
to Samantha who smiles alot.
she's on the move into a new phase,
I hope she finds happiness.

Saturday, August 12, 2017

what happened to my flute practice?

what happened to my 20 minutes
lost on plane rides and reruns, my flute
rests quietly in its case, waiting.
my lips are slack, my lungs lazy and flat,
there is no music.
precious twenty minutes, come back to me!
tomorrow, call to me before others are sleeping
one wall away, before dogs doze and stars
brighten the sky.
twenty minutes, you are but a small sliver
of one day, find me tomorrow or let my
sadness fill my evening!

Thursday, August 10, 2017

Velcro de-mate


in your dreams
did you ever ponder the uniform rows and columns
of Velcro loops and hooks, of how they mate
and hold your posters to the wall, or the two
sides of your shoes together?
the unsung heros,
the unnoticed,
the unsullied.
they have a life, you know, their own
trials of broken links, the debris of endless
mates and demates, the reason for which
your poster eventually falls from the wall.
we measure such things in the lab
in our white smocks, hairnets and booties.
we work for you, our countrymen, in the 
pursuit of pure understanding of your
Velcro.