Too little ozone, or too much,
Is starting to destroy us.
But the sky is very clear today
And I am feeling joyous.
On the street we look at crimes
Like the making of a movie.
But the zephyr blows a little kiss
And I am feeling groovy.
The signs are showing everywhere:
The end is coming quick.
The sun is shining all around
And I am feeling sick.
Something that bloomed so filled the air,
Inhaling dizzied me.
The stars were as close as the treetops.
I didn’t feel young, I felt as though
I wasn’t any age.
To be alone that night
Would have been too cruel
For any fate to demand.
What luck that you were there!
JOURNEY IN WOODSTOCK
I hike to the top of a mountain
Where I sit in a shady hollow,
Watch the distant valleys,
Eat my bread and fruit.
I read from a book of verse
And jot some notes.
Listening to the birds, the insects,
The leaves moving in the wind,
I doze. And then I hear:
“Do you want half a cheese sandwich?”
“Ma! He hit me!”
“This elevation is 3,051 feet.”
“I’ll buy new shoes at Paragon.”
“These flies are so annoying!”
Why did the Family from Hell
Pursue me here, and how
Did they find me? There’s nothing
To do but pack my things,
Look at the valleys one last time,
And trudge down the mountain again.
HIKING TO THE RAVINE
Were you free for a day of hiking? I asked,
And you joked about “a chance for father-son
Bonding,” yet we both know that’s true.
You made arrangements at work;
We can spend this day on the trails
To the river and waterfall.
We talk about the state of politics,
Your plans after college, the pace of human
Progress. I listen for hints
Of adolescent misinterpretation
I might be tempted to comment on,
But nothing seems less than mature.
Years ago it was clear that the earnest child
Was a memory, transformed as you set out
On your own journey. Today we scramble
On trails through the forest; sometimes you lead,
Sometimes I lead, and sometimes the path
Is wide enough for walking side by side.
Plantains thrive in the sidewalk cracks.
The spiky things that grow in the middle
are their flowers.
The crazy woman sings
about summer, swings her red scarf
as she walks in the sun.
All things flower
any way they can.