Oddments

In search of story


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Connections: July 14.17

It’s an earthen air

sagging over the dawn

musty

sweating on the lawn

popping with toadstools

and yesterday’s rain sits still

gathering the scent of soil

and a nameless farmer’s till

ghosts of crops past

rain-wafted now

old farms unburied

by summer storm plow

smells of wet summer

airy thick soup

fragrant toothsome

morning droop.

 

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Connections: July 12.17

The aging gardener

captured here

tells the story

loud and clear:

sunburn, sweat

arthritic knee

callous, puncture

sting of bee

ideas spawned

by maniac

with creaking

sacroiliac

swollen knuckle

blackened nail

back and shoulder

growing frail

in love of plants

all too transparent

oft perceived

as blithe aberrant

and yet withal

a kind of glow

why is that?

who can know?

 

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

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Connections: July 11.17

When July comes out to play,

bouncing on trampoline leaf,

climbing monkey bar stems,

sliding down the smooth

shiny pepper,

cartwheeling,

hopscotching,

hide-and-seeking in

herb tunnels,

and no one knows

how green the world can be

until the hot light leap-frogs

over itself

and we wish we could snatch it

this limpid summer air

but

unpossessable

it mocks

catch me if you can!

like childhood,

then does the garden dapple

make us stop

to fetch a memory.

 

 

 

 

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Connections: July 8.17

If you’re getting too complacent

and your life is too benign

just dig a little hole

and plant a For Sale sign.

No words speak of chaos

with greater eloquence

or open greater floodgates

of diverse bamboozlements

than these two simple syllables

 which open up our closets

to strangers’ cold inspections

and our own uncertain posits.

 

 

 

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Connections: July 6.17

Begins the concert

before the music

in reverent wait.

Hear we in quiet

what we

anticipate.

Write we silent prelude

discarding daily

 freight.

Still we the world

rushed

and inchoate.

 

 

 

 

Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives.

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