Crutches

“Getting in bed, I cuddled next to her good leg.”

Mason Williams 1969

Imperfection is such a burden

and it weighs me down more

with each passing year.  There

is no easing of bodily flaws, no

sudden sharpening of mental

acuity.  No, it all flows away,

                 away until every damn

                    part is bent or stooped

                        or atrophied or unresponsive…

A bum leg was just a curiosity

back when perfection was closer,

when puzzles could be solved

when all the parts had their part

memorized and on good days

life was a symphony of sorts

                 sorted out and possible

                    pleasurable, hopeful

                       full and fulsome and fun…

And tucked away in a closet

is a box of photos, wrinkled

and faded (a simile) showing

a girl with crutches, leg straight

out and cast encased, smiling

slyly while I clutch her arm, grinning

                    a grin both shy

                       and proud, comfortable

                          and very much in love…

Snowstorm's A' Comin'

Here comes the forecast snow.

Looks like it’ll be a real big blow.

All the weather girls and boys

are making lots of scary noise.

Every channel has the story.

NOAA’s in its warning glory

Our governor has a real good plan

the snow plow driver’s name is Stan.

Look at all the grocery stores.

People knocking down the doors

milk and meat and loaves of bread

a block of cheddar cheese to shred.

Don’t forget the Quaker oatmeal.

This dang place is sure surreal.

Every Wilma, Joe and Jane

is rushing to the quick check lane.

Gas stations all are really busy

drug store clerks are getting dizzy.

Panic’s rising shoulder high

gotta find some stuff to buy.

Shovels, gloves, flour and salt

some liquor made with good old malt.

Supplies are now set in place

no more need to rush and race.

With a little bit of Frenchman’s luck

plows will all get soundly stuck.

Then when Wednesday rolls around

we’ll still be sweetly hunkered down

with no particular place to go

just looking out at all the snow.

Maybe stay beneath the covers

acting like two young lovers.

Winter Remnant

This morning the wind got under my coat.

A cold wind, a late winter remnant.

Spring is not distant now and it’s a sure

thing that coats, hats and scarves will

soon be in the dark of the closet.

From tall reeds a blue heron lifted

its ungainly wings becoming an angel

in flight, following a narrow stream

deftly tipping, dodging branches making

a smooth passage through the shushing

wind, this late winter remnant.

Near the end of the trail the parking

lot was crowded as I finished my walk.

Men, women and several small children

headed for the playground, too many

for this work day.  But they tried

to enjoy our cool sunshine in spite

of the harsh wind, a late winter remnant.