Another spring

Weary of winter,

                                        waiting for springtime,

March makes a promise

                                        unmarked by misgivings;

Fertile earth will unfreeze,

                                        flowers will flourish,

Warm sun will shine,

                                        and songbirds will sing;

New life will unfold,

                                        bare forests will fill
With foliate splendor,

                                        spring will spread seeds,

Ensuring summer's

                                        promise of pleasure

And bounteous plenty,

                                        once more, saying, "Yes!"

To each youthful year's yearnings

A good night's sleep

For years I was stubborn, refusing to rest,
Instead of admitting a good sleep was best.
When the thought of a nap came into my mind,
I banished it fast, and went back to the grind.

I'd stretch and I'd yawn, and I'd say with a groan,
"I need to write, and more time than I own."
I'd drink coffee all day, cups past all the telling,
Ignoring my sleep-loss, my body rebelling.

I stayed in the game, with my eye on the stake,
Kept playing my hand, though I needed a break.
And the hours dragged on, but at last all seemed fine;
If I had the best cards, the jackpot was mine.

At my keyboard that day, and the memory's sore,
I fell asleep in my chair, wound up on the floor,
And as I got up, I realized with a shock,
I'd been leading my life in a race with the clock.

From infancy's days, all through life's churning storm,
I'd been brain-washed to think work alone was the norm;
But it isn't at all, that's a tale we've beeen told
That keeps us distracted until we are old.

"I'm retired," I thought, "What's the point, what's the rush,
And these are the days when my life should be lush."
I looked all around, as the shadows grew deep,
Walked into the bedroom, and went straight to sleep.

I'd just learned a lesson, a truth for the ages;
We change as we grow through life's varied stages.
Ambition is good, we should welcome it's prod,
But up to a point; after that, it's just odd.

Now I sleep when I'm tired, always seeking to rest,
I pay heed to my body; I've learned it knows best.
I make plenty of time for smelling sweet flowers,
It's balance in life that enhances our powers.

Growing up

Sing out, fair goddess, heed my call,
For I have bridged my gap-span years,
And I have faced up to my fears,
Not hurting very much at all.

The dream, now just the merest shade,
Like quondam love, of love bereft,
Proclaimed its fickleness and left,
To end an empty masquerade.

Confession

Once my poems were Latinate,
But now they're Anglo-Saxonate.
Once I found a lot of pleasure
In obscuring every measure.

Now you have no need to scurry
To the nearest dictionary;
I strive to make my verses clear,
With words that please the eye and ear.

Will they like us out there?

Imagine faring out in space
To represent the human race:
What values would we try to stress
To justify our earthly mess?

Would other forms of life think well
About our planet's living hell,
The brutal wars, the genocide
We wage with patriotic pride?

Would aliens condone our urge
To murder children, and to purge
The men who choose to disagree
With rules decreed by you and me?

Way out there in the universe
Would we find praise - or just a curse?

No second chance

At a country place in late October,
Where trees are dressed in antique colors,
Brilliant bursts of red and ochre overlay
A palimpsest of past pleasures.

Former lovers in the silent house, uneasy,
Wait for remembered tones of a grand piano,
And frustrated by time's passage, strain to hear
Chords played long past, and only half-recalled.
The briefest memory of passion's music
Fails to interrupt the silence.

A winter wish

Fraught by weather wan, and weary,
February's days are dreary.
Condemned to freeze this time of year,
The month will not be warm, I fear,
Winter's cold, cruel winds will blow,
With four more weeks of ice and snow,

If I could have one wish for me,
I'd fly down to the southern sea,
Where warm days reign, and song birds sing,
While soft winds sigh, and lovers cling,
Where February's ways are sweet,
Beneath the summer sun's bold heat.