The canopied ginkgo outside my study stretches skyward, summoning squirrels into its celestial labyrinth. In winter the skeletal colossus too partially shelters the bird feeders' birds from hungry red-tailed hawks who spy, plunge, and picnic in, between, and beneath the tree's appendages. Winter, spring, summer, and fall the ginkgo hosts flitting choirs of transient songbirds, armadas of arboreal ...
Midlife Poems
Midlife Crisis Averted
The dusty caboose of my fourth decade lumbers closer, closer. Hobo instincts flutter. Pack light. Jog alongside. Jump aboard. Stow away. Still. Stillness in motion. I resist; the urge subsides. The caboose rumbles past. Silence. Solitude. (... from Midlife Crisis Averted Postponed. 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) ...
Mission Reboot
By twenty I’d be a poet. By thirty, a novelist. By forty, a memoirist. Perhaps a decade anon I’d expire telling stories By a babbling brook With a smoldering fire And a jug of wine. At thirty nine I took inventory. The workbench was sow backed But the warehouse was bare... (Source: "Mission Reboot", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) This is an excerpt from one of the ...