Last night
a few days after
the last seen flurry,
a scent of,
daring, spring.
Just past the last
hill home where
the shoulder
is a stream now
dopplerized frogs
in a night
of crossing roads
of crossing seasons
no need to tarry
no reason to hurry,
we’re here.
Day Fourteen, NaPoWriMo
Day Thirteen, NaPoWriMo
I don’t remember if the accompanying gold had a specific name but that green darkened many a kitchen cabinet and appliance in its day…
Long ago, in a childhood
far away in upstate New York
kitchens used to be
avocado,
A color foreign,
dark olive green, not
quite army or khaki
sometimes paired with gold.
But avocado was something
unknown, a mysterious myth
of something which
might be real. Somewhere else.
As a fashion decorating goal
it ceded to red or blue or white
and now, I think, concrete
but what that name,
that dark color meant here,
so close to New England
was not revealed for many years
when a bowl of green appeared
next to chips and that
new thing, salsa
as wonderfully exotic as
the dance of the same name.
Now, feeling time-traveled
like readers arriving
finally at the red planet
we embrace the avocado,
not just for chips
it’s snuck into sandwiches
and now, for breakfast
welcome on our toast.
Day Twelve, NaPoWriMo
At the Poetry Reading
(after Billy Collins)
Listening to his poems
and to the audience
laughing and giving that
singular sound of recognition,
I wanted someone to
read my poems so I
could hear that inhalation.
After, he took questions.
He said he searched for the
ending while he wrote
I noted that he mentioned
using pencils,
several times in fact,
but not what brand,
and I couldn’t bring
myself to ask.
He dispensed courage to
the roomful of folks โ
poets and readers โ
keeping a share to
take home in his pocket.
Mom and I leaving Palmer House this morning after hearing Billy Collins read his poetry last night.
Breakfast at the Blue Benn in Bennington:
and waiting for me at home, reassurance that it is truly spring:
Day Eleven, NaPoWriMo
On the road today, and there’s just nothing like a real, good diner.
Halfway from home we stop,
the classic diner
with all day breakfast
lunch and dinner
the walls covered
with offerings
a board of specials
pot pies, mac ‘n’ cheese,
and trendy avocado
Regulars and wayfarers
counter sitters and booths
large mugs of coffee,
one refill included.
For the record, Mom had a reuben (served with a small mason jar of extra russian dressing) and I had a specials board sandwich: smoked turkey, pepperjack cheese, lettuce, tomato, avocado and chipotle mayo on grilled sturdy bread.
Day Ten, NaPoWriMo
Yes it was snowing again this morning.
The front yard fills up
with the early arrivals
grounded, bedraggled,
doubting themselves,
hoping for better.
They get more
sunflower seeds instead.
They scuffle nonchalantly
in the April snow,
all beaks toward May.











