It was one of those fine October days
free from summer’s heat and haze
but not yet gripped by autumn chill.
...
I’ve taken in recent years to thinking about my funeral
and have decided to make one paramount request:
play jolly music at that ritual.
What good does it do to heap on dirges
...
blossoms and clouds blowing white
against a blue-washed sky
aureoles of daffodils
...
Wet snow coats
twig, branch and bud.
Against the still black street
the waning season
...
Stepping out our front door
I’m suddenly awash
in the cries of geese
filling every corner
...
Yesterday north wind came
scrubbing the air blue
sending clouds scudding
across clean fields of sky
...
A crew is out for early practice
caressing the morning air
with rapt strokes
cleaving the smooth water
...
The geese are flying again
swiftly
after the languid slowness
of the snow,
...
Another World War II pilot gone.
Obit on a back page of the Times
“Pilot who downed Yamamoto dies at 84.”
A photo of three lean young men in khakis
...
I see myself becoming old.
My closet is full of suits I don’t wear anymore.
Nothing I need to wear them for.
There are days when I stay in my pajamas till noon.
...