Early Ice Out • April 11, 2006

Silver filigree of thin ice reflecting a grey sky.
Dark water reflecting the browns and evergreen of surrounding hills,
naked but for the deadwood of winter
and patches of grimy snow in shaded pockets.

Lone bald eagle circles the lake --
seeking fish or partner, I do not know --
circling, circling, then sails over the distant hill
to find his fortune in food or love elsewhere.

Ice out in the Adirondacks means mud on the trails,
trout on the line, and the blossoming of crocuses and snow drops.
Spring is a beautiful time, if you like grey skies
over a brown and grey landscape.

And then THE SUN!
Warm beyond warmth soaking sun-starved flesh
of bare arms and upturned faces.
Heart and soul rejoice for Spring!

Cold Wind

a cold wind blows
howls through naked trees
chills me to the bones
and I'd love to snuggle into bed
under the weight of a couple of quilts
and watch the grey day pass
slowly by the window
as your soft skin passes
gently under my caressing hand.

Hockey's Last Days

7:11 on 3/13
And we've seen all the hockey
this season will bring.
It's high time its over
though a sad reminisce --
Until baseball & track
it is something to miss.

But spring will be bounding
from these damp mountain dells
bringing seasons of green to
these grey wooded hills
When the water from pack ice
will once again flow
sparkling in sunlight and cold as the snow.

And the sport of all outdoors will beckon and call
and draw us to haul guideboat down from the wall
to seek anew ventures as old as the hills,
as old as the erratics
that idly stand by
watching mere mortals pass
with all permanence of a mayfly.

Eat Crow • Live Right

The true measure of a person
is not in having done no wrong,
but is in how they have fixed
the wrongs they have done.

Some days,
you should eat a lot of crow.

Jesus Hates The Yankees†

Yes, son, Jesus does hate the Yankees. And you can buy a teeshirt to tell the whole world at Busted Tees: Jokes You Can Wear.


†Humour - Jesus loves everybody!

How the chickadee

How the black-capped chickadee
in blowing snow so happy be?
Flitting cheerful tree to tree
As if Spring its heart can see.

Image source: Birds of Fort McMurray (Northern Alberta)
by Robert McDonald

Shallow friends are no friends at all

The hurt is deep
when you learn
the true shallowness
of friendship.

Isaiah 43:18-19 (NKJV)
¹⁸ "Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. ¹⁹ Behold, I will do a new thing, Now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it? I will even make a road in the wilderness And rivers in the desert.

Jeremiah 45:5 (NKJV)
⁵ And do you seek great things for yourself? Do not seek them; for behold, I will bring adversity on all flesh," says the Lord. "But I will give your life to you as a prize in all places, wherever you go." ' "

February For Real

This is February for real -
crystal clear and brutal cold.
Each trip to the woodshed taken with measured eye.
Each wheelbarrow full one load less left behind to heat the next
arctic night falling on pulse-shattering day.
The race is on,
dwindling woodpile against
lengthening day.

But we who live here know,
the sun is heat
and powerful even at glacial temps
and so sport shorts and tees
when others think of frosty freeze.

This is the weather of towering mountain peaks and infinite stars.
Who could complain about that?

A Pirate Visits at Midnight

aka Each New Day: clarified {see previous entry "Each New Day" for fun and games}

Prologue

I look back now at
dark vacuum passed
warped time poor spent as
iconoclast.

"Choices, me laddy boy,
choices," he said.
Then he turned and he spit
and he scratched at his head.
"It's all about choices, now,
each bloody morn.
Do ye face them wiv grace, boy?
Do ye rend them with scorn?'

"Choose wisely, me laddy,
choose wisely," he said.
"cause it's tumble or travel
when ye first roll from bed."

"And nowest ye know whot means
them when they say,
'Aye, be making the best now
of each dawning day. '"

Epilogue

A little Pirate Code:

Damnable near thee Inn
Me Bandanna nether lie
Nene hen diner tambala
He be enter Mandala Inn

Linen be Eden Amaranth
Maharani been lend net
Anathema been rend nil
Nee hint darn amenable

Each New Day

Each New Day: a pirate drops by around midnight for a chat • What he is doing here, I do not know. No, not every day, once. A pirate doesn't drop by every DAY around midnight! - ONCE! Subtitle, get it? Subtitle too Subtle? {har har} Geezum!

{Insert "???" here. That thing, you know, that think that precedes the stuff that is. No, not an introduction, nor words of critical acclaim. the PROLOGUE! Yeah, that's it. Here it is. the PROlogue}

(But first, the author wishes to thank a few folks}

Acknowledgements

I'd like to thank Mrs. Bricknell, my first grade teacher (we used to call her Mrs. Brickwall, but she had the best paste in the school). A special family thanks to M & M & Emily.

Ooh, and let us not forget that one special lady out there, and you know who you are. Yes you do, oh, yes you do, You do. I'll just type out the alphabet until I get to the letter . . . well, no, that's not gonna work. Hmmmmm. Well, honey, dear, I was jes foolin'. You knows it was you I was meanin' the whole time! Smoochie smoochie smoochie!
Prologue

I look back now at
dark vacuum passed
warped time poor spent as
iconoclast.

{um, end prologue. There's no chapters, so I just thought I'd point out that the prologue was over so you'd not that what follows is now the content to which the title refers.}

{Sorry for the intrusion. Just wanted to clarify the flow. Guess I kinda broke it up instead. Well, now you know how it goes, so you can go back to the top and read it and ignore all this stuff here inside the brackets and all and it'll be just the way the author intended it to be.

Just wanted to remind you again, the prologue is over, what follows is the main text, the logue so to speak. There will be no apilogue.

Although, come to think of it, the final stanza makes a pretty fair epilogue. I'm not so sure about having the protagonist carry the epilogue, though. Sort of steals my thunder.

Well, enough from me. Here we go. Or you go, anyway, if you made it this far and elect to madly go the rest of the way.}

"Choices, me laddy boy,
choices," he said.
Then he turned and he spit
and he scratched at his head.
"It's all about choices, now,
each bloody morn.
Do ye face them wiv grace, boy?
Do ye rend them with scorn?'

"Choose wisely, me laddy,
choose wisely," he said.
"cause it's tumble or travel
when ye first roll from bed."

"And nowest ye know whot means
them when they say,
'Aye, be making the best now
of each dawning day. '"

Epilogue

{OK. So I lied. Here it is. The epilogue. But of this was a limnological poem, the epilogue would be at the top and you would find a hypologue here at the bottom. Now there's something to ponder.}

Darn. And to think there was actually some serious insight in this thing before I started adding all this trash around it. MmmmPerhaps. HmmmmMaybe there's some significance to that, hmmmmm?

{scritch scratch scritch at the chin}


"Psssssst. Hey. You. Yeah, you. Over here. Come on, come on. I haven't got all day. But I've got me a tale of a special lady. Her identity has been anagrammatized in this here pirate code I am about to recite. Arrgh, they be real words I'll be recountin' to ye, lassies, and don't ye be makin' no fuss on 'em, neither. They may be be as smelly and foreign as ambergris, but they be right good as gold to a pirate as me an' don't ya go forgettin' it.

DAMNABLE NEAR THEE INN
ME BANDANNA NETHER LIE
NENE HEN DINER TAMBALA
HE BE ENTER MANDALA INN

LINEN BE EDEN AMARANTH
MAHARANI BEEN LEND NET
ANATHEMA BEEN REND NIL
NEE HINT DARN AMENABLE

{Pirate code courtesy of me, with a little help from the Internet Anagram Server. Heh, dream on! It doesn't work in reverse!}

Snowy morn

A Downy Woodpecker taps gently
on the stub of a maple branch
Frosted hillsides in the background.
Red squirrel sneaks out of a brush pile
pauses to look around then hops across the snowy ground.
Nuthatch flits overhead
calling and twitching as it springs tree to tree.

Life proceeds, new year or not,
winter be damned,
seen or unwatched.

Too

Too much, too little, too soon.
Not here, not now,
not ever again.
Too late, too early,
too many, too few,
Too much, too little, too soon.

Story of my life
Everything is there
but the timing is all wrong.
My path through time & space misaligned . . .
Too much, too little, too soon.

Since the day our paths crossed,
intertwined hand in hand,
merged lip to lip,
though briefly the twining was to be,
I've longed for the day our paths stretch together to the end,
voices, body & soul in harmony.