Oddments

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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: February 8.17

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERAThe other day I happened upon

a forum on NPR

a rabbi’s words illumined

a mood as black as tar:

when optimism can’t be had

we must insist on hope,

and keep in mind the difference

as we walk this slippery slope.

I opened the window this morning

Die Zauberflöte silvered the air!

the crimson Papageno,

the high-headed Chanticleer!

Corny it may be

but I need to think it so

the return of morning birdsong

as rabbinical treetop echo.

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Connections: February 7.17

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERABehold the breakfast table

in homey dishabille

history in the making

gummed with cold oatmeal.

Whither the flowered apron

ironed and daintily bowed,

cloth of bright blue gingham

à la Ozzie and Harriet mode?

How can appetite thrive here

amid such disarray?

Paging Martha Stewart!

Who lives here anyway?

(Me.)

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