A Little Romance In May

I had thought to bring you oranges,
Or a tiny pearl to dangle
At the hollow of your throat,
A kiss away from where my heart would be,
To dream of in the night
When you are fast asleep,
Or violets to stay with you
When I am gone away,
Or purple ribbons!
They to tie your hair
Which in its own way falls
To lie against your face
As so would I.

I had thought to do these things
And someday will,
But for today I only brought a tear,
A smile,words said in the setting sun,
And then the night.

April Showers Bring May ... showers

Soon May brings romance, but for now, rain.

A downpour lashes at the glass
And high winds send rain pelting
On the shaken tree,
Drenching sodden, soggy earth
And making ghosts
That sway and writhe
As phantoms running from the storm
Haunt my window eerily
In the fading light.

Osama Ben Ladin is dead. No, justice was not done. Revenge was done. Too late now to argue which ought to be preferred in these circumstances. Makes you think about that cancer on our Republic, Guantanamo. What have we there? Certainly not justice. How about cowardess? How should a brave people deal with those who have offended it?
We all know the answer. Shouldn't the cowards in Washington know too?

Under the sign of Aries

A stray dog adopted a man once in April, and because it happened in April, the man called the dog Aries.

Somewhere out there
in April fog he heard him
Whining to himself,
Wanting for a place to get inside.
It didn't matter much to him.
It wasn't his dog.

At the open door he waited
Quite polite
For word that he could come inside
And get his wet paws on the kitchen floor.
A bowl of water, no big thing for him.
It was not his dog.

Once licked dry
He looked up from the bowl
And wagged his tail at him,
And they became good friends.
Balm for a lonesome life, though still
It wasn't his dog.

Then, the dog saved his life
And lost his own.
That was seven years ago.
He lies now in the garden, the amsonia
Monument enough, he thinks.
It was not his dog.

Worst April in History

From Parts Left Over, more about April:

In April flowers bloomed, the April Fools,
And much too soon, or God knows why,
It may have been too late,
A sudden coldness snuffed their lives away
Without a word.
Now, naked, they will not see summer.
I held one on my hands a little while,
Not really knowing what to do.
This melancholy ache,
Not alone for petals
As they broke and fell away,
For I had watched them flower,
And beautiful,
I know I shall not see
The like of them again ...

Digging up ancient history

The other night, on the tube, a lawyer was advertising a CD that one could use to write one's will.

I recognized the lawyer as the man who represented O.J. Simpson at his arraignment after the murders in LA.

One of the first things the lawyer did was to present to the judge a brown envelope for admission to the evidence room for safe-keeping. I think the envelope contained the knife which was never found.

It was never found because it's locked away in the evidence room in LA.

Of course, when the high powered defence team took over, they never requested presentation of the brown envelope's contents. They may not have been aware of its existance. So the knife, probably with condemnatory traces of blood, is hidden safe forever by order of the arraigning judge.

April Showers, Snow, Hail, High Winds, Winter

It has been the worst April ever. We have broken all records for terrible weather.

Take heart, though. Here's an April Poem:

THROUGH MY OWENS-CORNING WINDOW

Every April it's the same.
Never fails.
The pool is not yet ready
For summer fun,
Its waters black
And clogged with floating leaves.
Confused,
These geese make their approach,
Flaps down--
Of course they're down--
They're geese.
They glide in smoothly
And they land.
A pair who mean to stay.
Sad to say,
Some weeks from now,
They will have to move away
With broken hearts
Before their young
Are old enough to fly.
Each year I promise to learn
The care and feeding
Of the baby geese,
The goslings.
But I do not
And would explain to them,
But they would never understand.

You can put your long underwear away, but keep your raincoat handy.

New York visa vis Paris

A few days ago, I was reminising about New York, and that got me to thinking about an even more exciting place, Paris.

Parisiens, call impolite.
You might be right.
But rare filet, they're not the pork
Like in New York.
Parisian women dress in satins
Not Manhattans;
Kiss like wine, not gin and tonics
Like in the Bronix.
Goils in Paris don't go bonkers
Like in Yonkers,
Don't go gaga over flattery.
Check your Battery.
Goils beautify Champs Elysees,
But never on the Great White Way,
Like junk bonds in a fraud
At Fourth and Broad.
Prettiest eyes you'll ever see
Await you on Le Pont Marie.
Disinterest is thorough
On New York's old Triborough.
So go to gay Paree and see
The finest goils that there can be.
Don't even look in ...
Brooklyn.

A couple of my favorite goils are going to Paris soon. I've recommended Angelina's on
Rue de Rivoli for, among other goodies, the best hot chocolate.