I
A baking day today
too hot to sit outside.
Even the shade's
too close to Hades. Just try
sitting for a while, letting
the heat envelope you.
Feels good at first
but soon you desire
ice water or tea.
Think I'll go hug the big red oak
and listen for secrets from
its deep roots while the desert breeze
brushes its cool green foliage.
Time to make sure
the couch still works,
take a little test ride,
read a bit
until I slip into a nap
and dream of things
that hover later just
beyond remembering.
II
Whatever happened
to [insert any one
of too many names here]?
I used to see them
quite often.
They've gone now
to wherever it is
we go at last,
George P. the most recently
departed. No more
coffee and conversation
at La Scala.
Ah, poets,
always dwelling on that
one last mystery,
worrying it
as a dog works at
a chew-toy
until finally
it's too tattered
to be of any use
except a wry smile.
"Hope to
See you when I get there."
III
I'm pretty much
out of words lately
though Bev says
"Hah! That'll be the day!"
Anyway, it's all been said
and better
by others too numerous
to mention
so I sit in the dusk
and sip chilled chardonnay,
play my flute,
and give thanks for another day.
Doves answer
from a distant
telephone line.
Now that's sweet music!
Bob Loomis
08-18-2012/08-19-2012
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