THE WINTER STORM

 

At noon a whirling flake or two 

but by nightfall the world 

was obscured by a thick blanket of white. 

The lawns, the rooftops, the sidewalks, the shrubs. 

Sparse traffic on our street, 

creeping along, fifteen miles per hour, 

no stops for red lights. 

I put on my new winter coat, 

Green Bay Packers knit cap, 

sweater, scarf, gloves, boots. 

The snow came up 

to our Miniature Schnauzer's chest 

so we sludged down the street 

in the ruts left by cars, 

the salt burning little Iko's paws. 

In the morning I shoveled the drive 

so we could get to my wife's doctor appointment, 

then the porch steps for the mailman. 

Huffing, puffing, 

heart thumping, 

eyes tearing from the biting wind. 

Thrice-daily forays with Iko, 

freezing in the morning, 

dark nights the worst. 

The sidewalk paths 

quickly turned to ice. 

Two slips, two tumbles into the snowbank. 

The neighborhood homeless woman 

set up her sleeping shelter on the bus stop bench. 

Twelve degrees, I feared for her life. 

A cruel winter storm, 

alien, inhospitable. 

Nature turned against her own progeny. 

A stark reminder of one's mortality.

Water Beasties at River House

There were zillions of minnows in the river 

They lolled in the shallow warm water 

Their lives were not without peril 

 Being favorite snacks for the otter 

Our clams lived next to the river bank 

We’d step on them when we’d go in 

When bored we’d pry their shells open 

An act which I now think a sin 

The crayfish dug holes in the sand 

They’d dart in their homes when we neared 

Their claws made them look like fierce lobsters 

Even so it was humans they feared 

Some of the frogs had homes in the field 

And the other frogs swam in the river 

Easy to catch frogs in either place 

When we grabbed them they’d croak and they’d shiver 

Snapping turtles swam in the river at dusk 

Steve shot a huge buck with his bow 

We hauled it to shore behind our green boat 

Turtle murder, the lowest of the low 

Mudpuppies were the weirdest of creatures 

They’d rest on the deep river floor 

Sometimes I’d spot one right through the ice 

They sure are an ugly eyesore

IDA'S VENGEANCE

Quicksand Terrors

Considering Turtles

Burnet Woods: A Love Song

The number one thing about where we live

We’re three blocks from Burnet Woods park

The museum, the lake, the civil war cannons

And the bandstand's a Clifton landmark

 

Burnet’s been there for a century and a half

The lake, Eighteen Seventy-Five

There’s a pink granite monument at the southern edge

And a trapeze on MLK Drive

The woods have a network of hiking trails

We forget that we’re still in the city 

One hikes up and down in the hills and ravines

Each view that we see, still more pretty

Our park also has an old-time playground

With its swings and a tall concrete slide

Built in the thirties by the WPA 

Cardboard speeds up each little kid’s ride 

The bandstand has concerts each Wednesday eve 

Maybe folk or classical or rock 

Fantastic fireworks on the Fourth of July

People watch from the lakside sidewalk

A hippy built a labyrinth in the park

It was hidden far off in the trees

The authorities forced him to take it all down

The labyrinth man said they were sleaze

 

Fishermen hang out at Burnet Woods lake

Hunting catfish and bass and brown trout

A guy once showed me his three-foot catch

The size of it made me freak out

  

One winter I gathered some kindling from the woods

And filled up the rack on my car

The cops were watching, said put it all back

I still think their policy bizarre

When J was a kid we would sled at Burnet

The best spot, right near Skyline Chili 

You have to watch for the trees at the end

The sleds almost fly, it’s so hilly 

To me Burnet Woods is a slice of heaven

It’s freedom and beauty and rest

Most of all, it’s escape from the trials of life

Pay a visit, you'll soon be de-stressed

Lizard Observations

About eighty million lizards

live in California's Mojave Desert

I know this to be true 

because I found it on Google

although they failed to report   

the total lizard population of North America

My final guess, 1.2 billion

which would mean more lizards 

than human beings and dogs combined

One of these colonies

is located outside our house

on our steps

the sidewalk 

the patio deck

in the driveway

next to the garage 

under the recycling bin 

here and there in the flower beds 

Our little guests love to relax in the sunshine

where they slumber with their eyes shut tight

then retreat to their lizard dens at sunset 

Cincinnati lizards are neither angry nor obstreperous

They never bare their tiny sharp teeth

or make unpleasant growling noises 

Quite the reverse, they are exceedingly shy

and flee at the first sign of human intruders

You would not believe how speedy these lizards can be

though they are only four or five inches long

The dog has never been able to catch one 

despite trying so many times 

They zoom straight up walls

scurry into minuscule holes

vanish in the tall grass or the rock pile  

Five years ago not a single lizard lived on our block 

but now dozens of them 

maybe hundreds 

share our space 

I am pleased they have joined our family 

We are lonely and bored during the pandemic 

and, thanks to our lizard friends 

we live in a more lively and exotic place

Beasts of the Night

The close of dusk, I lit my fire

Moonless and darkening

though the crown of evergreen branches

spread its design across the gray-blue sky

Burning pine logs crackled and spit

shooting out sparks which spun to the grass

then flickered and disappeared

By nine o’clock the world had turned pitch black

I called my wife on my cell phone

and told her it was eery, even scary

The park was deserted, no lights, no sounds

A good stomping ground for rural thugs or killers

Just then, a growling noise

I looked to my right

and saw two pairs of eyes

glowing red from the firelight

Then black masks, white snouts, pointy ears

A pair of large raccoons 

side by side, standing at attention

thirty feet away, staring at me

I felt my heart pounding

“Get out of here!” I screamed

“Get out of here!”

“Get out of here!”

So loud I even frightened myself

But the raccoons stood their ground

My wife said over the phone

“When raccoons growl they are rabid”

“Please get in the car, please lock the doors”

A third raccoon appeared

around the edge of the picnic table.

“Get away, get away!” I shouted

clenching my fists, nails digging into my palms

But he too stood unperturbed

knowing his raccoon family owned the campground 

I got up from my chair, retreated to my tent

pulled the zipper tight, tied it shut with a twist tie

I heard pots and pans clanging

A box of kitchen stuff crashed to the ground

And then eventually quiet

Later the beasts of the night

wandered in and out of my dreams

Circa 1949: An Anaphoric Poem

I remember icicles that stretched from the roof to the ground

I remember pulling bloodsuckers from between our toes after swimming

I remember lugging my red wagon to the city dump with my dad to bring home good stuff

I remember capturing garter snakes from under the rocks in my mother’s garden

I remember swimming across the river with my dad following in the rowboat

I remember listening in on the neighbors on our party-line phone

I remember a flock of pheasants parading through our front yard

I remember stealing carrots and blackberries from Mrs. Mead’s garden

I remember when our road turned to mud in the spring and we couldn’t go to school

I remember climbing with my siblings to the top of the willow tree

I remember being scared of quicksand when we walked in waist-deep water to Mr. Shaver’s

I remember slashing my thumb with a hatchet on a Pig Island camping trip

I remember biking to the Ideal Dairy to buy lemon flake ice cream, two dips for a nickel

I remember the six-foot pine snakes that sunned in our front yard

I remember when our Irish Setter Mike fell through the ice and my mother rescued him

I remember poking sticks into an anthill and watching the ants go crazy

I remember my eating mother’s whitefish, pot roast, and potato sausage

I remember counting “I love you, I love you not” with the petals of a Black-Eyed Susan

I remember running barefoot races in the snow

I remember my dad towing us behind the car on our toboggan

I remember listening to Jack Benny and Duffy’s Tavern on Sunday night radio

I remember emptying dead bodies from the mousetraps

I remember when they opened the dams and drained all the water out of the river

I remember finding lost change under the sofa cushions (which my dad had

deliberately put there)

I remember when I threw acorns at my brother and he fell out of the oak tree

I remember singing “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall” at the outdoor fireplace

I remember my parents and their friends drinking Silver Cream beer

I remember when we killed the flying bat in our living room with a cast iron frying pan

I remember loving Captain Marvel comic books

I remember when the ice went out on “Chinese Bells Day”

I remember my uncle Karl urging me to dig up the “Indian burial mound” in our

back yard

I remember when Steve and I spilled red airplane dope on our brand new carpet

I remember being scared of the ghosts while riding my bike past the cemetery at night

I remember blowing milkweed seeds into the wind

I remember when Steve shot the snapping turtle with our bow and arrow

I remember my mother telling me I wasn’t perfect

I remember our dog swimming behind the boat when we traveled half a mile for a family 

picnic on Indian Island

I remember when we saw a mud puppy through the ice on the river’s floor

I remember collecting nightcrawlers for fishing on the cemetery lawn after a heavy rain

I remember when our dog Mike got porcupine quills stuck in his nose

I remember when Steve and I lit the hoop with a desk lamp so we could

play basketball at night on the frozen driveway

I remember when we shot at tin cans and bottles in the river with the twenty-two

I remember everything about being twelve years old

Creatures From Our Youth: Six Shadorma*

The Elusive Pine Snake

Six feet long

Lazing in the sun

Slinks along

Ribs so strong

Pine snake’s jaunt has just begun

Never captured one

The Mosquito’s Demise

Thief in flight

Searching for red blood

Finds its site

Poised to bite

I smack that bandit, Whack!  Thud!

Messy end to fight 

The Dog’s Lesson 

Porcupine

Nests high in the oak

Set to dine

Twigs and vine

Gives our dog a painful poke

Quills in nose, huge whine 

The Fearsome Snapping Turtle 

Jaws of steel

Swims past us at dusk 

So surreal 

Fear we feel

Ancient creature, massive, brusque

Eyes us for his meal

Bloodsucker Invasion 

On my shin

My legs or my toes

Breaks the skin

Sucks blood in

Then it hides out in my clothes

Much to my chagrin

The Bat Scare 

Flies through room 

Our mom calls for aid 

Dive and zoom

Grab the broom 

Get him, Steve is unafraid 

Swift bat meets his doom 

*Similar to a haiku, a shadorma is a six-line poem with 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, and 5 syllables per line.  It can be rhymed or unrhymed.  

Campfire

First the insides, crumpled newspaper pages

Then a pyramid of fresh pine branches

Springy and scraggly, sappy to the touch 

Giving off a tart evergreen aroma 

Around the perimeter 

A wall of birch logs 

Elegant in their pristine white jackets

One scratch of a Diamond match

The pine boughs, ablaze in a second

Hissing, snapping, crackling, spitting

Spreading their hungry flames

The birch bark eagerly joins the inferno 

Tiny sparks flying into the sky

Dancing erratically, this way and that

Some reaching ten feet high

Sputtering out in the night air 

Plumes of yellow, red, orange flames

Agitated, restless, angry 

Jumping, dodging, darting, leaping

Changing form, one instant to the next

Each glimpse, its own fleeting masterpiece

A sudden wind, the smoke shifts

Eyes stinging, I move my chair to one side 

And toss in a handful of pine cones

Like fireworks, the petals burst into flame

Electrifying in their dazzling display 

Eventually the fire draws in its tentacles

Charred logs blink and glow

Sinking into their pool of reddish-gray coals 

Mesmerized, my breathing slows

Muscles relax 

Cares of the day recede

Replaced by a stream of memories  

Camping with my brothers at Little River

Ghost stories at YMCA camp 

In the Maine woods with my wife and son

So many campfires, so many decades

Magical moments spanning our lives 

Menominee River Creatures

Our crayfish dug homes in the river floor

They’d dart in their holes when we neared

Their sharp little claws were like lobsters

Nonetheless, it was humans they feared

Snapping turtles drifted by at dusk

Steve shot a huge buck with his bow

We towed it to shore with our green rowboat

Turtle murder, that made us feel low

The Great Blue Heron is a wading bird

She grows over four feet in height

And loves to eat fish and water bugs

So thrilling to see her in flight 

The otter had nests on the river bank

Steve captured a bunch with his trap

He sold their pelts for fifty cents each

To a down and out grungy old chap

Mallards are the most handsome duck of all

The male shows off his green head 

I went hunting for ducks with Dick Sawyer

But never took a shot, when all’s said 

Mudpuppies surely are the ugliest

And they live over twenty long years

They like to eat minnows and fish eggs

Near the top of my childhood river fears 

The loons lived together in the Channel

These are birds that can fly very fast 

They swim underwater to hunt for fish  

And head South when the summer is past 

The clams lay quietly near the shoreline 

We’d step on one when we’d go in 

For kicks we would pry their shells open 

An act which I now call a sin 

There were millions of minnows all summer

They swam in the shallow warm water

Life as a minnow was perilous

Being favorite snacks of the otter

We might see a seagull every now and then

Though Green Bay was three miles away

I worried the seagulls had gotten off course 

Though they never seemed to show much dismay

Water bugs swam near the river bank

They flitted about, here and there

There were hundreds of buglets in each big swarm

Every one of them heading nowhere 

The Ant on the Patio

Eight a.m., coffee on the patio

I’d slogged my way through the Enquirer

Skipping most stories, so boring, empty

Sudoku, more enticing but

even it imploded at the end

Just then I noticed a solitary black ant

making his way round the table’s rim

Running for two or three inches

Stopping, looking here and there

Running some more 

His body language, clear signs of panic 

“He may have to do this forever,” I thought

This ant will never discover

that the table rim is round

Not a drop of water, not a speck of food

Nothing but barren gray metal

Will he run in a circle 

until he dies?

I caught my breath, gave a sigh

I felt sorrow for the ant

and also identified with his plight

My own table rim is larger

but every bit as circular

Fruitless, bereft of nutrition

I went to the kitchen, found a piece of cardboard

I would lure the ant onto it

Then lower him to the ground

I hurried back to the patio

Much to my astonishment

the ant was nowhere to be found

He’d left my table

for a better ant place

I felt a vicarious sense of triumph

If that ant could solve his predicament

There’s surely hope for the rest of us