NOVEMBER NOTEBOOK GLEANINGS

I see I've almost let November slip past without a monthly post, so here 'tis:

Just this morning
it started -- brown and red leaves
drifting down
and the sun hiding out
behind distant hills.

Big full moon
up before dark
eager to be seen.

Put out
at his usual time
the neighbor's dog yips loneliness.

Quiet morning--
the autumn time change
has spread a hush
over everything.

Why now
after all these years
does her face
still appear in a dream
to haunt me?
Memory's so tricky.
Who knows if
that version's even close?

I scribble on,
still searching
for the key
to the door
of the wordmusic room.

Autumn leaves
relax out of the wind
in the wicker deck chair.

Our band Awed Ducks played its first coffeehouse gig in almost two
years on a recent Friday. Almost no one showed up, but I did find
these poems in it:

Cold evening --
three coffeehouse musicians
serenade rows of empty chairs.

Coffeehouse trio
almost as numerous
as their audience.
Outside, warm yellow
streetlights
belie winter's chill.

First night of winter
almost no one
in the trendy
plaza cafes.
At the outdoor tables
one guy sits smoking.

A small audience.
Afterwards, the manager
is gently evasive
about future gigs.

Almost no one there
but one guy
about our age
stays through
the entire show,
applauding each song.



(c) Bob Loomis, 11-27-2009