Sunday, May 25, 2014

odes to spring, illustrated, because the camera died

oh them pea-picklin’ peepers
if ghouls and zombies
one-inch high
as loud as they could,
they’d sound like them peepers
in the wood
that sing and dance
water’s edge
moonlight deep
a dream between
- now and then -
- sharp and flat -
- awake, asleep -
But what comes next?
Beyond the sleep?
A dream?

stepping outside on the porch
I lie on the sofa watch “Mad Men” then go up to bed read “The Sun Also Rises” and sleep well and wake up to fresh air, one bird singing, Elliott at my feet. In the southern sky hulks of clouds and the shadow of a half moon and air filled with moisture, the grass thick and green and growing. The little garden happy with daffodils, dirt brown and rich and speckled with weeds. The sky clears but fog hangs in the branches of budding trees and dew drops cling to the needles of evergreens.

What song might one give?
If today a baby were born
what would you tell her?
What would you want her to know?
What would you say?
Good Luck?
Or, remember that sign
posted on a tree
in “The Wizard of Oz” –
I’d turn back
if I were you.

Then I thought,
while driving home on this spring day
from the farmers market
where I sold candles and
so now I have cash in my pocket
and a memory of so many kids
running amok in the sunshine
with flowers blazing
gripped tight
like flags on the 4th of July,
and I’m making this third-to-last
turn homeward,
and in letters and numbers
construed from red dots
the casino sign reads
3:14 p.m. | 75°

I think,
what song might one give?
To this person just born?
I could run through the gamut of all I thought,
and I even looked up
Billboard’s #1 Hit:
All of Me
by John Legend.
Not to be confused with
All of Me,
by anybody else,
for instance,
Ella Fitzgerald.
Then I decided on this.


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