Sunday brunch al fresco
never better was
with family all decked out
in finest feather and fuzz.
Category Archives: morning
May 5.20: Coping
Spring exhales in hues
so pale
it turns the dawn
to merest veil;
even bones
in shroud aurorean
seem to join
in morning paean.
May 1.20: Coping
The day explodes with light
and many a robin aria;
twinkling dew engirds
dandelion luminaria.
Wishing you some form of light,
dear reader,
in this new month.
April 6.20: Coping
This morning I feel Pliocene,
and maybe you know what I mean:
the sleep that preceded
was not what I needed
and instead of standing I lean.
The coffee has not been invented that will open my eyes this morning.
So, dear reader, any thudding you hear from the American Midwest today
will be me bumping into walls.
March 29.20: Coping
Last night the lightning
tore up the sky;
now remnants gather
and wind sweeps them by,
face-planting the jonquils
into the mud,
ripping the petals
from yesterday’s bud.
No cheer to be had
from this morning’s dawn;
I don’t think I’ll keep calm
but I will carry on.
Saluting the British slogan which has served so well —
until we don’t WANT to keep calm.
March 28.20: Coping
I seem to remember
when every grown-up
would sip something vile
from an everyday cup;
with cute little handle
and familiar old chip,
it was frequently clutched
in morning death grip.
I hadn’t yet learned
the elixir brew
was what made the sun rise
and enabled virtue.
But learn it I did
and in the meanwhile
the mug came along
in new sipping style.
Each mug a billboard
devoted to brevity,
graphics and text
mixing java with levity,
it warms our cold hands
not to mention our hearts,
so here’s to the mug
and the lift it imparts!
Lifting my mug this morning to you, dear reader,
with wishes for you and your loved ones:
may you be safe!
Saluting also photographer S.W. Berg
and coffee mug aficionado D.J. Berg!
February 13.20
Sunrise in the kitchen
its gold eye warm
through blue-white froth
of last night’s storm
rousing the patter
of wiggly-toed feet
noses to windows
day’s quickened heartbeat.
December 22.19
And so
with a cold wink of moon
sly thief
pickpocket of the sun
does the earth
with me
welcome solstice.
I love the warmth
of old flannel
the blanket of solitude
swaddling me
in inwardness
as the maple
sleeps.
October 13.19
When fire heralds the day
and the lava of dawn boils over the world
what urgency seethes
to be heeded.
May 23.19
Doesn’t purple burn?
Doesn’t it melt
languid
into gold?
Apollo stokes
the coals of dawn
gilding the sky
with alchemy.
