Category Archives: Eggs

“Icy Drafts”

“Icy Drafts”

Icy drafts from winter’s future reach me; late night candles
Blaze along with altogether nothing in particular,
Nothing brilliant but levelled in the vernacular
With only some slight punctuation. No need to handle
The hour nor spend the day. No one, no thing,
No wizened breadth disturbs the dusts in me
When even Shakespeare smiles to see
No dream from which to wake for his sake. No,  no ring
Of fire, no need for patience in delivery. Devotion
I leave to the cricket soon sacrificed to the owl; suspicion
To the critic.  Applause I’ll pass and all his opinions
To the fool.  Settle the mountain with the ocean
To the bottom of the glass, but I think wisely to leave the bottle
On the table. No endless highway here, no hand on the throttle.

Painting at top by Suzy Schultz;

at bottom by Darren Maurer

“What’s the Ordre of the Day?”

“What’s the Ordre of the Day?”

What’s the ordre of the day? The laundry?

A trip downstairs to gather bagels in the morning’s light,

Across the street for vegetables from lands where armies clash by night?

The pharmacy awaits―its monthly maw is open―yawning,

Leaving me with hymns of thanksgiving for insurance

And of course the curse á tous les professeurs du côté français

Who voted out the dental plan, which means we all must pay.

Oh, well, I can’t complain these days. There is the firm assurance

That retirement is good until I croak, and croaking’s not that far away.

I might have done the deed this year, but something in me holds

That I’ve at least another year in me; silver this year, next year, gold.

There is in living more than simply doing laundry in the list of things today.

So what’s the sweat, and what’s another crate of eggs and milk and bread?

Another spring, another year, and some few miles to go before I’m dead.