Oddments

In search of story


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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.


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Connections: May 11.18

Some ancient mythic language

ebbing, swelling, weightless

like liquid air

many-voiced

chorus of Sophocles

bade me stop.

I turned toward the sound

the fullness of new leaves

spring petals

soft as babies

supple in newness

stroked by wind

sibilant and sure

wanting me to know

something.

Still as the dead

I listened

taut

to pluck a word

but there was none.

 

Connections


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Connections: November 20.16

vernon-hill-44-2015-10This was my look

yesterday

as I stared out the window

in flannel’d dismay

at snow mixed with rain

shot like a sneeze

by a roaring cold wind

in a straight-line freeze.

From seventy degrees

to this? Overnight?

Ma Nature’s sense of humor

is seriously impolite.

Thanks yet again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives, Vernon Hill Gallery.

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