Tomorrow, said the bard,
creeps from day to day.
Tomorrow, Annie sang,
the sun will come out to play.
I prefer the winsome second
but I feel the somber first
as fearful grim realities
grind from bad to worst.
Now it’s personal, dear reader. My son is presumed positive.
And so we wait.
I wish I could say April Fool!
A window should be two-way
just as life should be about.
Who will we become
if it’s just for looking out?
If all the world is framed
by the glass in our four walls,
will our brains all turn to mush,
our strides turn into crawls?
More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,
and to the anonymous cat,
who obviously did not trust the photographer.
I stew in a pot of my juices
with only some mallards and gooses
to hear my complaint.
A pleasure I ain’t —
this, they say, they deduces.
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.
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!
‘Mid hyacinth and violet
unfolds the dainty thyme rosette;
lowering rusty sacroiliac,
I sniffed at it and it sniffed right back.
The pond mirror
in leaden shinery
tells form
absent finery/
long-leggedy beastie
starkly spindly
twiggy as spring
winter-dwindly.
With thanks to the Bump-In-The-Night prayer.
Full disclosure, dear reader: I changed this post. A few hours after I posted it, different words started to poke around in my head. I didn’t ask for them. They just started bullying me.
