Saturday Morning Poem

the gentle rain
that falleth upon
the parched blooms,
providing blessed succor 
and needed nourishment
also falleth upon
the morning newspaper,
rendering it unreadable,
a sodden mass
seeking to return
to its wood-pulp roots.

Saturday Morning Poem

Apologies
for the poesy.
The coffee is broken,
I believe.

Saturday Morning Poem

If you're quick
standing at the right angle,
You can catch a fleeting glimpse
of yourself
in a merciless mirror.
It never matches the image
that lives in the head,
the heart,
of what--who--
you really are
the you you project to the world.
After all
the mirror may be merciless
but fleeting, transitory,
the view already gone,
forgotten.
It may be a good day
after all.

Saturday Morning Poem

Based on close observation
meticulous measurement
and careful calculation
of songs and chirps,
I estimate there are just under
a gazillion bird species
in the trees 
in back of the house--
claiming territory, attracting mates
all at the same time.
I know I should be glad the space
attracts something other than weeds,
but a celebration of life 
closer to midafternoon
would be preferable.

Saturday Morning Poem

Do all those
bacteria and spores
that have taken up residence
on my skin 
and in my bloodstream
have their own little vermin
along for the ride?
How small does it go?

Saturday Morning Poem

I am enjoying this morning
way too much.
Something Will Go Wrong.
I can only hope 
Wrong stumbles and falls
and is unable to rise
until after lunch,
when I can deal with it.

Saturday Morning Poem

Of all my faults, failings,
and eccentricities, 
one has not been
unintentionally wearing 
mismatched socks.

Saturday Morning Poem

The DJ has chosen 
a mournful dirge
played by many violinists
sawing at their instruments.
I bury my head under the covers,
wishing that the sawing was conducted
by my wood-working brother-in-law
and some of his carpenter friends.
Then, at least, the screeching
could ultimately serve
some useful purpose.

Saturday Morning Poem

Coffee is a 
false prophet,
promising
clarity
energy
sociability
inspiration.
But no such things 
have occurred.
By the time
I am aware, though,
the pot
is empty.
Useless, I think,
but hope springs.
I make another pot.