Crow and Thrasher

An old crow, big and black,
Sage of The Woods sits high on electric wire
has come to check out the neighborhood
has by his side a tooting bird, a "whipper snapper,"
who makes damn nuisance of itself,
does kamikaze to nudge Ole Crow from his perch.

It's about turf and power, isn't it,
that the Thrashers want other critters at a distance
nest and mate and eggs to protect, survival of the slickest.

Crow shouts vexed:
"Squawk off, you punk,
who's says this spot is yours alone!
Before you were, my shadow found the ground"
But With a little help from Mrs. Thrasher,
Crow beats a retreat.

The dialogue resumes tomorrow
Prince Raven of The Morning Hour
knows when a nest is ripe to pick.

Where dueled the Monitor and Merrimac

Just like bang, the rains erupts
noisy, disruptive, and without warning,
sparing nothing in guttered fronts
to and from the ocean's paths.

A few will awe where ears glow deaf,
for we live from storm to storm, level to the sea
neath skies of bliss and skies gone mourning
Tidewater's revolving stage, bipolar fuse a bit.
Take that, the navy's deepest water and most sheltered base -
the Chesapeake and south of it...the Outer Banks

Choices

Agreed, we live to die,
but as to the insane being interesting,
insanity is just bizarrely stupid,
who act irrationally, and know not why.

Peeping Tom

The window is the peeper, not I.
I just look through it.
Fault me for owning a telescope?

Coastal Stretch

I live across from a toy light house
in memory of mariners lost wherever.
The light house keeper is a part-time guitarist,
who when the frost is gone,
plants tulips in the front porch
overlooking his garage.

And me? I'm the passing stranger,
30 years in the making
who drops by from time to time,
who may spend a summer painting seascapes
and has never made from one a dime.

May Day

Wind is the name of freedom
blows where it wills
stills where it sits
leaves and always comes back
takes and always deposits
scatters pollen, scatters snow
rain and dust
inspires a poetess not to rust

Wind filled sails
when bed sheets were not enough
Wind is the name of violence sublime

Every House, Its Flag Pole

The reason why women look like flowers
is because men look like apes

The realization hit me this morning
on seeing neighbor visit his mail box
He looked about bleary eye at the new day,
scratched and returned to his abode,
shirtless and hairy back.