CALENDAR

CALENDAR

It's a daily, often sad, memoir
of what I did or did not do.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.

As glaring as a falling star,
It forces the chore of a daily review.
It's a sad, often sad, memoir.

A lost day is another scar,
Another promise to begin anew.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.

Today is one less in the reservoir,
Flip the calendar and say adieu.
It's a daily, often sad, memoir.

Time is a swirling scimitar,
Hissing today may be my Waterloo.
It stares from my desk, the calendar.

Keeping me awake, this bitter brew
Has the smell and taste of vinegar
It's a daily, often sad, memoir
And it stares from my desk, the calendar.

ICEMAN

I am ice.
You can't see me
forming on your wings,
lurking on your bridge.
Never think I'm tame
kneeling in freezers
to cool your beer.
No, I shatter trees
and splinter boulders.
Beneath the surface
I'm sharp as steel.
I prowl frigid seas
hunting your ships.
Silent and cold,
I am ice.
Look down,
see your heavy boots
walking on me. I'm
cracking in places, waiting.
Keep Walking.

RAIN

RAIN

Is one fine maestro,
even before taking the stage
its cloudy score knocks at the door
like a musical invitation
to listen, yes, L-I-S-T-E-N
as raindrops perform an allegro
melody upon the roof, which stills,
for a moment, the noise in our
jackhammer minds and quenches
the parched riverbed of today

MOMENTS

MOMENTS

Lucky are those for whom
time does not scatter like

cockroaches running from light
but flutters from bud to

bud savoring the sips --
of that first Spring breeze

floating through the window
or now, sipping cool notes

that flow from the fountain
of a bubbling banjo melody