Under the Fan Palm
Page 5
chair,
The other claims the cushion pile
As hers. The cat has his own chair,
A white one that collects his fur
Because it’s black and contrasts well.
All three have clocks attuned to mealtimes.
The shih tzu yips a shrill reminder
That supper time is imminent.
The mixed breed has a deeper voice
And joins the chorus with her alto.
The cat meows a tenor line
To mark the hour of dinnertime.
And when they all have consumed their meals
And made their toilet properly
They fall asleep on chairs and cushions
And nap the evening hours away.
Table of Contents--Index of First Lines
The Oriole
I heard an oriole
Chirping for a mate.
He grasped a milkweed perch
Clinging to a petiole,
Resplendent orange feathers
Brilliant in the summer sun.
A bobolink and a crow
Joined the chorus with others.
The birds relieved my gloom;
I’d spent too long depressed,
Sad for all the young folk
Sentenced to fatal doom,
As well as other griefs
That plague the human kind.
The sort of sorrow only
A bird’s sweet call relieves.
Table of Contents
Alphabetic Index of First Lines
Bare branches rubbing
Born in Spain
Bring me my beer,
Ceramic insects
Clouds ride the wind with skill and grace.
Columbine blue and cool
Day dies in rose red skies.
Day lilies bloom in parking lots
Despite the gloom that fills our souls
Down the stairs Madam comes
Earth bound bird
Elves and hobbits, dwarves and orcs
Folk wisdom claims it’s true;
Hear the wind of winter blowing
Hurrah for lovers young and free,
I have heard the trump of doom
I hear a robin
I hear a distant bugle call on the wind.
I hear ladies singing
I heard an oriole
I shall not mourn them,
I wait for night to shroud the land.
I wonder as I wander the roadways
I wrap me in clouds
In old Japan the cuckoos
In the days of our lives
Invoke Olympian gods and goddesses
Light your lights and hang your baubles
Little lady why
Little rose, little rose
Long ago in Mexico
My boy has lost his sparrow; it is dead.
My cypress trees are spears
My face has wrinkles I’ve not had before.
My funeral plans are made,
My native fields were fenced
My pelargoniums are pink and red.
My scribbled verses are written down with zest.
One dog has commandeered my chair,
O wondrous weed! You gift of gods
Sand whispers in the whistling wind.
She I wed I hold a riddle.
Silver mirrors catch the sun
Small purple daisies near timberline
Some folk conclude
Summer boys in Speedos tan
Tell me tales of pirate ships.
The ancient Greek and Roman poets told
The bees and dragonflies are sleeping.
The daffodils are in bud.
The darkness of hearts
The dogs are at the groomer’s and the cat
The eastward peaks are white with snow.
The irises are blooming now
The ladies took tea one afternoon.
The laughing boy
The lemon tree and orange tree
The long night ends in scarlet dawn
The lucky boy finds love one time.
The lusty youth surveyed the room
The poets of old
The river flows west
The sea wind blows the mist
The sky is grey with smoke from fires
The small rain down may rain.
The sun and clouds play tag across the sky.
The thin bark peels from eucalyptus.
The time comes ‘round for the year to renew.
The tinkling music spills
The weather gurus promise us
The west is red with ending day.
The winter sun shines thin today.
Three dozen dead,
Today the skies are grey with ocean’s mist.
Tonight is for the stars in heaven
We cooked and baked ahead
When the rain falls from the sky
You know the sailing ship