Thursday, September 18, 2014

On the joys of fall

                                                "Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness"
                                                                                         Ode to Autumn
                                                                                              - John Keats

The hazy, hot, and humid days of summer spent,
Of her bright fireworks, only the embers remain;
Intemperate with pride, she thought the rules were made
For others, forgetting each player takes a turn.

The fall will yield a bumper crop from fertile earth,
A fruitful harvest, culled by labor, and with love;
And the fall offers cool mornings and sunny days
In defiance of icy winter's coming blast. 

When winter comes again, her frigid onslaught sure,
When blizzards cloak the land, when rivers slow and freeze,
Beneath the suffocating coat of ice and snow,
Shy spring will wait her turn, to green the world again.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

The Aurochs

Let's note the Aurochs, now extinct,
Who disappeared before we blinked.
A relative of modern cattle,
He lost in evolution's battle.

Gone, in sixteen twenty-seven,
Now, he lives in bovine heaven.
Geneticists all hope to bring
The Aurochs back for one more fling.

Prologue and epilogue

They mark the start, and then, the end,
Outline the statement that I send.
I brag and boast in the middle,
As I ply my bow, and fiddle.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

On quicksilver Time

Is time an item you can buy,
Like cigarettes, or apple pie,
Available, if you have need,
Or is its rationing decreed?

I went to the convenience store
To buy some time. I needed more;
More time, and I might beat the clock.
The clerk said time was out of stock.

When I was young, time passed so slow,
I hardly saw it come and go.
Tomorrow now is on its way;
Can we hold on to yesterday?

Sunday, September 14, 2014

The ballad of Big Foot

Some say, somewhere, but facts are slim,
A giant lurks, will we find him?
He's called Sasquatch, Big Foot, or Yeti,
Nameless, in the Serengeti.

In Washington and Oregon,
He's glimpsed by hikers, then he's gone.
Sherpas in the Himalayas
See him climb slopes, on sunny days.

Abominable Snowman keeps
Aloof from men, on mountain steeps;
And climbers claim, in frequent speech,
He's often seen where men can't reach.

So, that's the gist, the story's end,
Passed on by travelers, as they wend
Throug forest trails, or blinding snow;
Is he real, will we ever know?

Saturday, September 13, 2014

On night terrors

Asleep, you are susceptible to fright,
When dark shadows coalesce as you dream.
Blackness enshrouds the room in moonless night,
Shapes creak and moan; sleep isn't what it seems.

You spring awake, your body drenched with sweat;
Your heart is pounding, images congeal,
Assault your mind, your night of rest upset
By eldritch terrors nearing the surreal.

Night terrors don't originate from guilt;
Carloads of crooks dream away like babies.
They might be caused just by the way you're built;
The question provokes a host of maybe's.

The best advice? Do what your mother said:
No pepperoni pizza, before bed.

Dead as a Dodo

Take pity on the Dodo's lot;
He was alive, but now he's not.