I found a harmonica - someone else's

It was a windy ride
buffetted from west to east, then
pushed up the hill to the house
of harmonicas
I remember the first time I saw the
SUITCASE
full of harmonicas
I was so ignorant as to think there
was only one harmonica, the one I
had seen a long time ago
maybe only one person played harmonica
with that single harmonica
he lent me one of his extras
i wonder if he would even miss it
if I never brought it back.

where is my harmonica

not that I have time
between work, playing flute,
planting seeds and watching them grow.
it's a meditation.
I have a guitar in the closet
having played it until my belly was about
to burst 34 years ago
but harmonica, harmonica!
it fits in your pocket!
you can play it in the park!
I had one, I bought it,
and I lost it,
it fell out of my pocket
where is it?

Films to watch

the lives of others
good bye lenin
they were suggested by the man in the screen
it's Zoom, you know, the way we could talk to each other
when the Virus is blooming like a cancer across
our lands,
we don't touch each other anymore.
we just watch the screen and voices come out
of our computers
how will we talk to each after all this is
done?

Missing FaceTime due to a nap

He absolutely crowed when I came downstairs
waving his hands like a small child, jumping up and down
laughing at how HE got to to talk to Karen and baby Mira by
HIMSELF because I was sleeping,
never mind that Karen was upside down the whole time
since he couldn't log in to MY iPad
(no, I don't share passwords, sorry)
nor emails, glasses of wine of other precious things
I admit being a little mad since she is MY daughter,
I am the one who did all the hard work and now he
just comes along for the easy part, crowing gleefully
that he got to see the baby and I did not.

all he remembered

all he remembered after reading a tome
about the glorious history of Barcelona
was the albino gorrilla.
I can relate,
to all the things I remember and
all those that I have not.
but
I'll never forget this,
this lock-down, the endless days of being indoors,
wearing a home-made mask
and waiting
for the fever to break.

restlessness

The walls seem a bit close
the dog annoys me, constantly looking for
an extra bit of food, wandering into the kitchen
only to be shoo'ed out,
I put up a screen so I don't have to look at her.
I still have this fever
and the thermometers lie continuously
I can't do a fully meia luca within the space
I call my gym now, wedged between my bed,
dresser and closet.
the ground is saturated from melting snow
and more to come.
I'm restless, for what, I'm not sure
I just want the chance to recover
from close walls and close company.

thermometer wars

I just want to be well so I'll pick the
numbers on that second one,  the one he bought
today to check the first one, the one that says
I have a fever.
the second one says he's very cold, two degrees
below his regular temperature, the temperature of a
50 year old healthy male
if I can accept that, then I don't have a fever
and I can go to California and see my
granddaughter.
so I'll pick the temperature on the second thermometer
the one that says I'm fine.

playing music

he's supposed to be working
instead I hear the trilling of a flute
the sonorous tenor of the bass clarinet
he is dreaming of music we will play someday
when Duetto is not quite challenging enough
and he learns to count
one two three
he will learn to count.

hoping for eggs and chocolate on Easter

I wish the finches outside the window
would lay eggs for Easter, and baby bunnies
would hop hop so I could see them in the
snow outside the window, turning into chocolate
for my enjoyment on Easter.
I don't believe in the Resurrection, but
chocolate and eggs work well for me.
I'd like to watch the eggs hatch in 17 days,
flying away in a few days like drunken sailors.

The cruelty of spring

winter should go out whimpering,
tail between its legs, hopefully in February
but instead, it comes back, teeth bared, growling
with icy sleet and slush, a wind that bites
Spring is so cruel,
her flowers tilting towards the sun
only to be crushed under heavy snow,
stems brittle from freeze, slumping in
the warmth which surely comes.
Oh Spring, come quickly and stay
chase Winter away.

Reading Billy Collins

for inspiration
even though I have some snobbish
poetry friends who look down upon
his folksy style that you can relate to
instead of some poetry that you finish
and wonder what the f you actually read
and did it have a deep meaning that escaped you
in fact, you can pretend you understood something
or just shrug it off.
I'll take Billy Collins
anyday.

The fever vs Jenny

Really,
it's mild, spiking a couple degrees
above normal, then skulking back down
letting me believe that all is well.
I want to see that baby,
but you, devilish fever, never cracking
100, dog me, ducking and rising,
a whack-a-mole.
Tell me, Fever, who do you represent
and what is your agenda -
perhaps a compromise where you
go back to your cave for one month
and then you can come back!  once
I am home and the baby is safely
1000 miles away.
Let's make a deal.

fear and distance

we wear masks and disposable gloves

keeping out distance, six feet, lurking

suspicious, we grimace at those who are 

bare-faced fearing the plume which emanates

from their mouths with each breath.

not even our eyes smile, being focused

on our lists, our bags, keeping family 

and friends safe at home, and without

knowing, maybe keeping these souls,

shopping for food, safe - perhaps we

are the ones from whom they  need 

protection.

AllI I think about is Mira

All I think about is Mira,
I wonder how she smells, and
I want to touch her skin, yet afraid
of how rough my own is.
I want to study her tiny fingers and toes,
and observe how her mouth moves when
she sleeps, when she's hungry, when she cries.
I want to see her in her mother's arms,
the young woman who long ago came from me,
who I once held in  my arms,
I want to see her daughter in her arms,
but I am here
and she is there,
they are there,
a thousand miles away.