Welcome Readers!

Welcome readers!

I appreciate you stopping by to look at my efforts from the marathon. Of course you are welcome to read anything, but I’d particularly like comments on Hours 1,3,6,8,10,16, and 18. It is from among these I’ll be selecting what I’ll submit to the anthology. hanging the lights (hour 3) is a definite. I haven’t picked my second one and would love to hear your suggestions and advice. Thanks!

Hour 24: blooming

blooming

the rosebush
despite my neglect
blooms again
the tiniest buds
are hard red things
but as they open
they fade to tangerine
and then to peach
meanwhile
becoming less tough
less closed-off
softer
freer
as should we become
as we grow and
blossom

 

Hour 23: Summer Days

Summer Days

It used to be
In summertime
We would spend all day in the pond
Diving off the dock
Swimming underwater
Playing in the sand
Not until Mother called
Would we walk, dripping
Up to the house
Sitting in wet bathing suits
To keep cool as long as possible
Even at the dinner table
Where ears of corn steamed in great piles
Outshining whatever meat was served

What a time that was

Hour 21: Step Up!

Step Up!

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step

It isn’t really that first step that’s the problem
We all take a few steps now and then
But with 5, 279, 998 more feet to go
You are looking at over three and a half million steps
If you take 6 thousand steps per day
Like the average American
You’ll be walking for 587 days
Or just over a year and a half
Then where will you be?
If you started in New York City
You might get as far as Jasper, Alabama
And what is there? Not much.
Remind me why we are doing this again?

 

Hour 20: On a Wire

On a Wire

Before the telegraph
Strung wires on poles
From coast to coast
Where did birds gather
In gossipy groups
Sharing the news of the day?
They cannot bask in the sun
On branches heavy with leaves
Nor gather in such groups
Where sprigs and twigs
Interrupt the flow
And nothing on the prairie
Proffered such a perch
As we advance with satellites
And wireless technology
Will the birds be sad
To see the neighborhood go?

 

Hour 19: A Posting from Io

A Posting from Io

 

Dear Friends,

Well, I’ve settled into my little pod, finally
the surface of Io being what it is
Finding a place to set up housekeeping
was difficult, given all the volcanic activity

It is, as expected, freakishly cold here
Sulfur-dioxide frost coats everything
One dares not explore too far
for fear of freezing to death

Fire and Ice, ha! A land of contrasts
It is hard to know which to fear most
But I don’t fear, not really, only
the loneliness that seeps in around the door

My work keeps me busy
charts and graphs and data collection
the recycling of water, the cooking of meals
I try not to think too much of home

I will send you a photo of the sunset
over the mountains, which are painted
various subtle shades of yellow, red, and green
Only the distant sun seems colorless, and cold

I best sign off now, and try to sleep
It will be many months before you read this
So, I will ask you the favor, dear friends,
of replying with all the speed you can

With all my affection,

Your distant Friend

 

 

Hour 18: Pulling Up the Little Trees

Pulling Up the Little Trees

Among the regular lawn weeds
The little trees are easy to spot
Three to five inch woody stems
With an umbrella of familiar-looking leaves

When I pull them from the damp soil
They release more easily than I expect
I note the long tap roots
Each had planned to stay put

But they were born in the wrong spot
Around the AC unit, in the gravel beds
That encircle the house, rooting
Between the boarder planks

It is needful work, to protect the foundation
Of the very house in which I dwell
And yet, how sad to kill something
So young, so full of life and hope

And though these trees are now dead
If we were to pack our bags and go
How soon before the forest returned?
To erase the evidence of our existence?

I find this to be a promising thought

 

 

Hour 17: I Did Nothing

I Did Nothing
In the style of Martin Niemöller

First a hole opened in the ozone
But I did nothing
For I could not see the ozone
Then the polar bears began to die of starvation
But I did nothing
For they were very far away
Then some places began to have 100-year storm events
But I did nothing
For those places were not where I was
Then the seas rose on the coastal cities
But I did nothing
For I did not live on the coast
Then winter changed to summer, crops failed,
and famine swept the land
But I did nothing
For by then, there was nothing left to do

Hour 16: Pumpkin Wife

Pumpkin Wife

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
Had a wife and couldn’t keep her
Put her in a pumpkin shell
And there he kept her very well

You may think it isn’t very nice
Living in a pumpkin shell
But once you shellac the inside,
Getting rid of the basic sliminess,
It isn’t that bad
The walls are wholly carvable
I’ve made all sorts of brackets
and shelves and windows
It’s a sweet little home now
Quite cozy in fact
The thick rind keeps out the cold
Yet is quite cool on the hottest days

Some balk at the idea that I am a prisoner here
Not true!
I can come and go as I please
It just pleases me to stay,
now that we have a comfortable home

You should’ve seen the potato we were living in before!

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