I sort of took yesterday off, but suffice it to say there was rain to go along with the day. Today though the sun was out and the clouds… well, I took a lot of cloud photos, a lot of photos. The clouds were complex and amazing. I’ll see if I can get them up to Flickr.
I did sit and paint in one spot and watched the clouds roll past.
Lots of wind, my first growler (go ahead, you can laugh, I live to entertain), and other things. What an April it has been and now onto May. You may continue to see some poems here for awhile until the pandemic winds change things around again. I’ve blended this year’s NaPoWriMo into some early cards for August PoPo so more to come.
Or until the DSL lines come crashing down altogether.
The end of April. Long month of grey days
with golden double lines – stay where you are
it warns as it dips and winds around town.
Wind is pummeling the house. Isn’t that
more like March with its half-remembered kites?
And yet, here we are, blown around like
teenagers with an abundance of so
much everything but no experience
to hang it all on, flailing, some flying
lightly, scooping the sky, slurping up
the tough cord, stringing it as clothesline
doing a windy tango of its own
How’s the weather up there, the cord-paying
hand telegraphs, hoping for a tugged reply.
This might be the best thing I’ve done in months. Went out to the mailbox this morning as I do and there was a letter – from the IRS. Now, if you’re waiting for a refund, this isn’t exactly what you want to see in your mailbox. Walking back to the house I opened it. I knew, folks, what had to be done, and I did it.
I’m proud of it. I would and will do it again. And I’ll laugh now every few days over this.
Yes, I fed him to the worms, at the risk of corrupting or damaging my new worms in my composting bin, I ripped him up and buried him in there with all my other compostible bits.
Next time Jerk, don’t waste my tax dollars sending me your signature in re to something that’s already freaking happened.
Moisten and prepare your addition to the compost box:
Ensure the paper is adequately damp before shredding:
Prepare a place in the box and add in the new addition:
Cover and let the worms feast and do their thing:
The penultimate day of April and so the almost-last poem of NaPoWriMo. Hopefully it’s been a good month for you all too wherever you’ve been laying low and waiting for COVID-19 to pass over. I was out and around looking at things and painting and took some photos of what I saw and one of my helpful co-workers and myself, trying to work and of course, some clouds.
April is almost over. This morning
I went out with my first coffee, wondering
has there ever been a better time
for daffodils than this year?
We suddenly have time, and reason,
to look and look again. To see
the no-color brown-grey hillside
fill up with frothy green brush.
One day, the pond has a haughty goose.
A week later, several yellow goslings
hurrying to line up behind two strict
but apparently caring parents.
We had several rounds of snow this April,
but nothing stayed the hand of spring.
We were there when the maples bloomed,
watched as peonies leapt out of the ground,
four, six inches at a time from nothing.
When the peepers sang, we stopped to listen
and knew another checkbox had been ticked.
Every day the hand of April is seen
in places you’ve looked before, suddenly,
throwing a fistful of green, now pouring it
along roadways, sneaking out of hedgerows,
following the farmer turning the fields,
that telltale green waiting til he heads home,
jumping up out of the surprised earth
No one cares if it’s weed or timothy
Only that April came and now comes May.
A day with work and sun and clouds and a tasty lunch and dinner. Breakfast wasn’t bad either.
You seem concerned and ask if I’m all right
But see, we don’t really know each other
And if we did, we probably would not.
So I nod and say I’m good as do you
and we turn to work which is what we share
People talk of their feelings all the time
I wasn’t raised that way, but to get through
Never let them see you cry, be polite,
be respectful and work hard to get ahead
All the things that make a civil world,
a smooth landscape where nothing sticks out.
And so I’ve kept myself to myself a lot.
Perhaps we could start by saying who we are
But if we did, we wouldn’t choose to know.
People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing—-that’s why we recommend it daily.
