Early Spring at Dames Park

From this bench
I can see
Field No. 2.
where a

A brown stain
of bare
earth
runs along

its center.
I can only
assume
winter had

been so long
in leaving
that it became
bored out of its

own turf,
or so cold
that the ground
split as it

deeply furrowed its
grassy brow
in obvious distain.
How envious
it must be

of Field No. 3
where a young couple
has chosen to
play Frisbee

keep-a-way
with a very obliging
chocolate lab,
panting as he runs

back and forth
in the dew
of the mid
morning grass.

An Observational Poem of the Portrait 'Boy With a Hand Grenade' Taken by Diane Arbus

You freaky little boy.
How do you curl your hand in such an awkward way?
And why make such a disturbing face?
It's so, well, disturbing.
Pull your overall strap back up onto your shoulder
then go wash your knees. They are dirty.

And don't forget to rid yourself of that hand grenade
or to get yourself a new hair cut (the one you have is so passe).
You freaky little boy.

Goodbye

When I saw you serene in my dream
I asked if you were alone
or by yourself.

I had to know because
sometimes it's difficult to tell
these things.
Like when you told me you had to leave.

"When will you be back?"
"I'll only be gone untill I return."

And then you were there
until the time you left,
leaving me alone
or by myself.

Bedroom Arithmetic

The math
was simple, even for a couple of lads
constantly fighting and always at odds.
A path
you could say, to establish the order
of living arrangements for two brothers.

A dresser,
your bed and a narrow pathway to the door.
The rest is mine- oh, spacious, space galore!
What better
way to sum up our sibling relationship
than simple division by masking tape?

A Hard Cold Morning

A hard cold morning is what I remember most,
the frozen ground's snowy ghost

crunching its wintery protest
under my every foot step,

the night sharpened air
instantly biting at my ears

while the dry Februariness
does its best

to displace my breathing
with coughing.
Yet I kept walking,
my brother following
behind me, completing

our two soul convoy of silence- nothing spoken
while ahead Pepper lays broken,

her time with us expiring during the night,
her fur covered in a light
dust of white
snow and the yellow
glow
of the back porch light.

Brown eyes, still open and warm, seem to toast
us her final thanks, but
a hard cold morning is what I remember most.

2010

Let us salute the beginning of a new year,
another decade, as time marches on
and our eyes scan the distant horizon for hints of tomorrow.

Onward we go in this journey,
some blindly and some filled with clarity,
as footfalls of the past still resound in our thoughts.

Soldier on we must, and bravely conquer
the tribulations of the present
while smiling
into the eyes of our children.

With will, hope, love and God as our guide,
soldier on valiant friends
until our boots finish
walking this path back home.

Wandering

My thoughts are feeling a little bit restless today
so if someone would point the way
I think I'll get going.