When out of sorts with life or self,
A porch is hard to beat
As long as you’ve a comfy chair
And space to stretch your feet.
We neither pity other creatures nor feel sorry
for ourselves. Life does what it must, so do we.
We accept what there is: snakes, bugs, mice,
Kayaking on the East River, my daughter
Met a coyote swimming and offered help.
It declined, adding it needed the exercise.
I really want to know whether you exist or not!
Your site has several “Contact Us” links, and
Emails to you produce an “Auto-Thank You”
But our messages then get lost in cyberspace
Our young son wheezes softly in his sleep
In the middle of our bed, arms embracing
Stuffed animals, favorite blanket in hand.
For years, our bed has been his bed as well.
Our small New England town buried a son yesterday,
A young soldier killed on duty in Afghanistan.
It was our first casualty in struggles far away
But, as it had proved, not sufficiently removed.
Four score and more can be a drag.
I’ve watched my face in mirrors sag.
My fiber diet makes me gag.
Alas, my tail has lost its wag.
One April Claude Monet became enraptured
With an oak, a vision begging to be captured
On canvas, bare limbs stark against the light.
Magnifique! Mon Dieu, he’d paint this right!
“This is a defining moment, ” proclaims our president loudly
As Malaki leading several newly minted regiments proudly
Rushes to Bosra to attack the Shiite militia and is nearly crushed,
With a thousand desertions. Another Kodak moment to be hushed.