Heavy Wind And UPS Failures

When the Christmas tree blows down
Before the lighting ceremony
That's got to be a lot like
Having your kids gift
The one they have been asking for ever since you didn't get it for them last year
Not arrive on time for their birthday
Except
As I stand looking at a 15 foot deciduous tree covered with lights
I can't imagine
Ever getting away with presenting
A bucket
In the place of a drum set

Thanksgiving's Tail End

Pie of the pumpkin
Pie of the apple
Pudding of the banana
Celebration of the Thanksgiving
To an end
Does come

Order Restored

My sister moves the chair up a foot and a half

So she can sit closer to the laptop

Which is perched at the edge of the coffee table

Apparently

Though

In so doing

She has thrown off the balance of the whole room

But

Since the interior director already had his stroke

And

Legos and Hot Wheels are scattered indiscriminately about

I’ll just move myself

My laptop

And the wicker bottomed stool underneath me

A smidge

Or two

To the left

And

Restore

Order

young bones welcome winter

sliding on pavement
even onto his backside
laughing all the time

a wet ass and the absence of dis-ingenuity

Crying

Naked 

Wet and

Clinging precariously to me

Me

Who was dry and calm

But now is trying frantically 

To get a reassuring grip 

On a very small and

Definitely damp

Little ass

It smacks of a usually far away primitive people being visited by a television chef 

Who eats monkey brains cooked in cow dung over an open fire and

Smiles and

Nods and

Seems both 

Enticed and

Grateful

Until he and the camera man sneak around the corner of a hut and

Laugh and gag in hushed tones

Except of course

There is nowhere to hide from a wet ass

going home

eleven hours
blowing snow and endless roads
left at the doorstep

Permanence

A river

A lake

An ocean

Even water from the sky

That has yet to find its new temporary accommodations

Mark a line

On the walls of your

House

Like teenagers do with pocket knives on the trees in the local state park

You erase the marks

The initials written over double hearts

With the languid carelessness of a squirrel preparing for winter

New walls

New floors

New paint

Channels to redirect

The river

Lake

Ocean

Even the water from the sky

Should the whim move it

To return

To a spot it hadn’t been to in years

To renew and venerate connections

Muck like F.C. and C.B.

In the woods

On a perfect summer day

With not a cloud in the sky

Freeze

Freeze

That’s what I want to say from the front seat

So that I can take all my attention away from the

Chevy’s

Honda’s

Ford’s

Jeep’s

Toyotas

Red

Blue

Black and

Mostly white

It’s the white ones I can see in my mind’s eye

Them and

 The Dunkin Donuts and

 The Dairy Delite and

 I’m not interested in seeing any of them

Then or

Now

And I want the radio to stop too

No more Katy Perry

I want to be able to turn around and watch her face

Immediately after I reach behind me and give her hand a squeeze

Immediately

Before she reciprocates and

She always reciprocates

Almost automatically

But not quite

It’s a delayed twitch

And it’s delayed

Because first she has a natural reaction

Her whole little body relaxes

She smiles

Just a little

No teeth

No laughter

No hysteria

Just a slight upturn of her lips and

A different look in her eye

And then it’s gone

Always

Before I can appreciate it or

Even be sure it was really there

Amongst the Accords

Sierras

Coffee and

Ice Cream

Before

I can focus my powers and

Make everything

Freeze

The benefits of being a woodchuck, chipmunk, or bat

forty-eight degrees

in four months it will feel balmy

now it's time for bed

Dinosaur Duds

I’m like a milk dud a few days after Halloween

Classic

Sweet

Perhaps aptly named but

Considerably better than nothing and

Even in an overflowing plastic pumpkin with a seemingly endless selection

Not a bad choice

Kind of like a hadrosaur

Given a choice

Who wouldn’t prefer a raptor or a pterosaur

But Now

Sixty million years or so later

The hadrosaur doesn’t seem like so much of a dud

I have A Difficult Tree

I wonder about the tree at the end of my block

It seems like its been a month or more

Since it lost its leaves and

I don’t remember much in the way of

Yellow

Red or

Orange

Before the branches went bare or

Mostly bare

A few leaves still cling in the upper reaches and

Are still green

Although more lime than kelly or forest and

A bit bedraggled

More Cleveland than Pittsburgh but

Not quite Detroit and

Without bankruptcy or angry creditors

Who knows how long they can hang on

I wouldn’t be surprised if it takes new leaves next Spring to push them out

The tree seems to be in active denial

As long as on leaf still hangs on

No matter how empty the branch

The long winter has not set in and

Rebirth is not necessary

I wonder if it were a boy

Whether it would eat its vegetables

Colder Temperatures

The weather finally seems to be turning cold

For more than a few days

Which with a little more than a week to go to Thanksgiving

Should be remarkable and

Wonderful

Especially for me

Who has been planning our next move

Since right after we signed the mortgage papers and

Is always planning the next vacation

From the beach and

Has a garage and

House

Filled with

Boots

Gloves

Coats

Hats

Sleds and

Kids

But

I still remember

An afternoon of dodge ball

At a friend’s house

That I drove to and

I still remember

Feeling

As I always did

That the last game of dodge ball

Was just as much fun as the first game

Which was how I felt

Pulling my son around the block in his wagon

Rather than watching him ride his bike and

Sporting short sleeves

Rather than my fleece

Which is hanging in my closet

More ready than I am

For colder weather and

Tomorrow morning

Turning Over Old Leaves

It’s calm now, but high

Winds arrive early morning

I’m not done raking

My life as art

An unfinished toucan is watching me

Out of one eye

One green eye

Joined to an orange beak and

Surrounded by pink

Blue

Green

Red

Yellow and

White

Feathers and

It’s the white feathers which catch my eye

My brown eye

Set off by my reddish brown hair and

My yellow shirt and

Lots of white

The toucan and I have a certain simpatico

Here at my desk as we both wait

For the seven year old artist in residence

To finish coloring us in

Of the unknown and the familiar

When heading into the unknown

Be it a hallway at his sister’s school or

The cleaning aisle at the Shop Rite or

Watching snowboarders hurl themselves down craggy mountain sides while we eat lunch

He asks for my hand and

I give it because

Nearly every day

I myself

Feel like a five year old

Walking through a downward sloping hallway

Past pictures and dioramas and

Lots of doors

Keeping my head o a swivel and

My eyes open

Ready to see a familiar face

Out of the Mouths of Babes

Twenty minutes until we have to be headed out the door

No one has eaten breakfast

My daughter's hair needs to brushed as she screams bloody murder and

Then something has to be done with hair bands

I have to at least run some water over my body and

Put some clothes on that don’t make me look like a threat to the safety of school children

One lunch has to be made and packed

Both backpacks need to be checked and put in the car

The appropriate jackets have to be selected and

The kids have to be talked into seeing the necessity of wearing them

Footwear must be selected and fitted and secured

Teeth must be brushed and

The naked boy

Who is dancing around in front of me

As I attempt to put underwear over his feet and up his legs

Needs to be dressed

Which is why I clenched my teeth and screamed

He was hoping to sit down with his metal lunchbox and

Extract his stuffed dog and his stuffed turtle’s blanket

Which is why he said

Screaming at underwear really doesn’t help anything

Discipline: Lather, Rinse, and Repeat

On my knees

My hands on his shoulders

My eyes on his

His eyes on the ground

Our voices soft

And in total agreement

We hug

We kiss

We zerbert

We laugh

We silently agree to do it all again soon

Rakes and Responsibilities

A few snowflakes were in the air this morning

The very first few

Setting off dreams of

Four foot drifts and

Nightmares of a lawn and

A driveway

Full of leaves

Covered in snow

Probably about six inches but

That’s the difference between Four and

Forty

Sleds and snow angels

Versus

Rakes and responsibilities

Parental Perspective

Kids upstairs screaming

I pause before going up

To clean up some leaves

Turkey shoots and freedom

My daughter and son
Like their father
Do not know turkey shoots
Annual or otherwise
Won't spend much time watching a fishing pole
Stuck in a plastic tube on the beach
Won't ever sit on my lap
Whilst I drive the tractor
Surveying our corn
Land
Town
Work
Lives
Freedom
Or
The boundaries of our world

Chincoteague Wild Ponies and Green Grass

Hey horses 

I've got news for you
Wild ponies
Are horses too
Just like you

Only they are a long ways away from humans
Who inexplicably stand in large groups
Staring at them through binoculars and 

Taking lots of pictures of them
While they stand in a swamp
Albeit
A a swamp of a particularly vibrant green

Check Mate

You know that old ram
The one from the nature documentary
That was injured in a fight during rut
Cornered in a freezing cold river
And eaten by a pack of hungry wolves
Well someday buddy
That will be you
And me
Minus
The freedom
Any possibility of booty
And the privilege of recognizing check mate

Why I Stay Up Late Every Night

Almost every night

As the next day hangs threateningly over the one I am in

I sit in front of the computer

Typing

Searching

Reading

Imagining

Like a ghost hunter

In the waning hours of a fruitless search

For something

No one

Really believes in and

Only I

Want to

Debt

once a month we sweat
even now as the leaves fall
to the last dollar

Driveway Fly Fishing

I’ve never been fly fishing

But I can only imagine

That when you are standing in the water

Slicing through the air with the fly rod

Almost dancing

With rod, fly, and fish

It must be a lot like almost dancing with my son

Yesterday

On the sloping grass next to our crumbling driveway

Whatever catchy but vacuous top 40 song that happens to be on

Flowing out of the open car door and

Picking me up as

I pick him up and spin him around

Slicing through the previsoulsy quiet and still air

Hoping for what happened today

Hoping for the request

To do it again

Hoping for a catch

He's A Hands On Kid

His hot little hand is on my shoulder

His voice is its usuall high pitch and high and

Still earnest but

Unusually soft and quiet

I am staring at the computer screen

Looking at the zoomed in close up of

A meticulousy crafted

True to life and

Fully functioning scale model of

Some piece of farm machinery

That I will never in my life be able to accurately identify but

I still feel his eyes looking at me and

In a daze

I answer yes

Coming to soon enough to try to put a bit of a break on his expectations

He doesn’t argue

Not this time

He just puts his hot little hand back up on my shoulder

Barely Keeping Up With All That Falls Down

Trash can lids flying

Leaves and twigs and branches too

Put lid back on can

Continuity Despite Seasonal Change

Shooting yesterday

At airport terminal three

Sun’s up today, later

Bovine Dreams and Urban Legends ... Or ... Let Sleeping Cows Lie

She is a cow apart

At least a dozen are asleep on their feet under a live oak tree

Huddled close in the cool night air

She is a good fifty yards away

Close to the fence

Legs twitching just a bit

Like a dog chasing a squirrel while sleeping

Or a cow sensing someone approach while she sleeps

And trying to run away

Trying

But not doing

Though she is moving now

Just the slightest bit

Revealed in her markings

Markings just like a cow costume

The black blending into the background on a starless night

Like their clothes probably does

The white just a lighter bit of dark

But enough lighter

To reveal ripples on her left

Probably starting on her right

Where she can almost feel the hands pushing

Harder

As the ripples increase

As does the leg twitching

And then she starts listing

Like in the black and white titanic themed nightmare

Of someone about to leave on a two week north Atlantic cruise

Except the iceberg isn’t larger than the boat

Above or below the water

And it isn’t white

Standing there as

Slowly she goes over

Landing with a soft thud

But failing to drop beneath the surface

Then her eyes snap open

And she is lying in the wet grass underneath that live oak with all the others

Illuminated in the light of sun rising up over the hills