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Signs of Spring

Waterfowl are back

I see hooded mergansers.

Spring is surely here.

#GAZELLESAYS

My New Waders

Brand new waders, check them out. Beware ye suckers, bass and trout. These breathe more than neoprene, Brand new with a polished sheen.

Of course, they cost an awful lot. Maybe more cash than we’ve got. I also needed wading shoes, Spent so much, I’ve got the blues.

But think of all the fishing joy, I will get from my new toy. And how I will be so glad, When I go fishing with my Dad.

We’ll meet and fish near mountain peaks On raging Colorado creeks. Cutthroats, rainbows, golden browns. Far away from any towns.

These are not just special pants, But opportunistic, fateful chance To catch at last much more than fish. And to fulfill a lifelong wish.

Waders create fond memories Of days spent casting among the trees, Chasing my elusive prey, And seizing much each precious day.

#gazellesays

Winter Refrain

Let it snow! Let it Snow!

I won’t pray for Spring anymore.

Let it snow! Let it Snow! I can barely open my door!

Here I stand, With cold, wet shoes.

Let the storm rage on! There’s no escaping these winter blues.

#GazelleSays

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

The remote.

Acquisition of Wisdom

My job description includes nothing About imparting wisdom. I have no contractual obligation To share the benefit of my experience. If he makes a costly mistake, I should not dwell upon What I might have done To prevent it.

Yet I cannot help but To feel in a greater sense, A moral compulsion To stop an error of judgment in its tracks. To insist I know what’s best, And what will surely become Of an ill-conceived act or remark. Clearer heads must prevail, must prevail.

This is my flaw, to believe I’ll somehow make a difference. That he’ll understand I am siding with him. Not on a witch hunt. And it’s all too real, Knowing I am not only seeing A teenager making a poor choice, But also myself years ago.

Now I am the ignorant adult Who fails to grasp his sense of urgency so acute. Why should he be any different? Or I unlike my own teachers? Some mistakes have to be made To be understood as a mistake. He will make his, and hopefully learn, As I continue to make my own, and hopefully learn.

#gazellesays

cowboymac12

East Wind

When the wind blows strong

From the Northwest

Fair skies and sunshine

We know best.

But when the flags

Ripple from the East

It brings us weather

We like the least.

April storms pack

Heavy wet snow.

Adding to an already

Gloomy, dull glow.

So we brace ourselves

For another dreary fest.

And pray that soon

The wind shifts West.

#gazellesays

cowboymac12

Day 1 Haiku

Poetry is hard.

Getting started is hardest.

So start a day late.

#gazellesays

Customer Service

I board the plane, and just my luck The special is my favorite drink. For just three dollars and one more buck. I’ll get it with Diet Coke, I think. A friendly smile and knowing wink, She brings my glass with ice and all. It’s all gone in just a blink, My thirst is quenched, feeling ten feet tall. That was great, I’ll have another, But my attendant is off and busy. I ask her colleague if it’s not a bother, Which sends her into a freakish tizzy. She points to the menu and the special ad “It only comes with Regular Coke.” I keep my cool and don’t get mad, Surely this is some kind of joke. I cite, “The point of a special, you see, “Is to encourage your guests to buy a drink. “Diet Coke by itself is normally free, “So a substitute mixer matters not, I think.” I can tell I’ve set her off. “What you want is $5, not four.” She frowns at me, stifling a cough. “I will need a dollar more.” I smile and look into her eyes. Determined not to cave and pay. “I really think it would be wise “To let your customer have his way.” Angry now, she takes my card, Which her machine now fails to read. The whole event is way too hard, Revealing futility in her deed. She ran off in a huff and puff, And I was left to ponder my fate. Would I get more of that tasty stuff? Or was the matter still under debate? She returned soon, glass in hand. Her expression showing not a speck of glee. My seemingly innocent drink demand Had been fulfilled absolutely free! Instant Karma had broken her will, But the greater lesson was surely lost. Don’t argue over one less bill, Keep the guest happy, whatever the cost.

Last Call from My Grandmother

She called me yesterday But I could not answer. I was teaching my class. And I did not call her back, Because I knew I would have More time to talk on the weekend. How could I have known? She did not leave a message, Hardly ever did. She hated to burden me, Or figured we'd get around to it When I wasn't so busy. How could she have known? I have no regrets, Nothing special I wished I had told her. No revelation or 11th hour apology For not being closer, Or calling her more often. But one last casual conversation Would have been nice. How could anyone have known?

A Promise to My Daughter

Many noises wake me In the middle of the night. Radiators clink, clank and whine. I roll over, Into a surgical stare at the clock. 530am; right on time. Then I doze for 15 more minutes. But when I hear you scream, I bounce out of bed, And sprint to your door, Tripping over your mother's clothes, Your toys, and my own feet. You resist at first, Still fleeing a threat That was never there. Slowly you realize It was all a dream, No less real, but now departed, Replaced by Daddy's embrace and Familiar voice. I cannot stop whatever was chasing you, Or scare away whatever frightened you. But I promise I will be right here. To hold you and comfort you. And bring you to Mommy and Daddy's bed, To snuggle away your fear, Until the radiators clink, clank and whine.

No more snow poems.

A picture will do nicely.

Worth a thousand words.

Death and Repetition

Night and Fog won praise. 1955 short film. On the Holocaust. I show it each year To World History classes. Thirty minutes long. My gaze turns away To look at student faces, As they watch horrors. Even not looking Is exhausting to my heart. I know what they see. I could just refrain, From showing this gruesome film. But I must, I must. Nothing better serves To remind us all, never No, never forget.

Falling Behind

A writer writes.

Though sometimes we need

Imposed deadlines or

Serious consequences to

Put pen to paper every day.

I've read novels where

The ending must have been

Not what the author wanted,

But an effort to meet a publisher deadline.

Today I find myself

Behind by two poems,

And thus I have to catch up.

We are supposed to be writing a poem a day.

A writer writes.

Why Is Rosa Scared?

What does she think it is? Nature or nurture? Nature would indicate a big predator, Or the alpha male, Enforcing, Keeping order, or Attempting to grow the pack. Nurture is much darker, Her first master coming to beat her, And force her to breed again. Puppies make money. Whatever she thinks it is, I know the truth. It’s harmless and it won’t last. My daughter’s Mylar balloon, Brought home from a birthday party. It scares our dog, Rosa. What does she think it is?

Almost Three.

I don't want to get out of bed.

I don't want to get in the car.

I don't want to get out of the car.

I don't want to go to school.

I don't want to leave school.

I don't want to go to the gym.

I don't want to leave the gym.

I don't want to go to the restaurant.

I don't want to leave the restaurant.

I don't want to take a bath.

I don't want to get out of the bath.

I don't want to go to bed.

Wicked Combination

Where else is there snow

With seasonal allergies.

In Minnesota.

Shameful

No matter how many children die.

No matter what your constituents wanted.

No matter what was actually written in the bill.

You still refused to pass it.

Shame on you.

.

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