Under the Fan Palm

refuge. Rain

  Will come; the grass grows greener with each

  Liquid drop that falls upon the lawn.

  The winter’s here; the spring will come

  And hives and air and secret stones

  Will thrive with life and the birth of young.

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  Bugles

  I hear a distant bugle call on the wind.

  There are no armies near enough to send

  A cry to battle; this I think is a scout

  Practicing his uncertain embouchure

  Until his bugling is entirely sure

  It keeps the scale in harmony. Once I

  Blew a bugle to raise the flag at school,

  Most military as we were in bygone days

  When war was newly ended in the world.

  So dim and distant those days seem to me.

  Since then we’ve had more wars around the world.

  Too bad the bugles blow their clarion

  Command to make folk soldier boys and girls.

  When bugles blow, too often good folk die.

  Silence the bugles; let winds sing songs of peace

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  The Cold Villanelle

  The winter sun shines thin today.

  The air is brittle in the cold.

  The springtime warmth is gone away.

  The winds scatter dry leaves in play

  Across my back yard’s empty fields.

  The winter sun shines thin today.

  The pill bugs shun the frozen clay.

  The dragonflies have died, I’m told.

  The springtime warmth is gone away.

  And winter winds are poised to flay

  The bones of grasses brown and old.

  The winter sun shines thin today.

  The clouds have tattered and gone astray.

  The blue skies stand not warm but chilled;

  The springtime warmth is gone away.

  Thin winter sun is on display;

  It shimmers with scattered gold.

  The winter sun shines thin today.

  The springtime warmth is gone away.

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  Loss Song

  Silver mirrors catch the sun

  Blaze them round the azure sky.

  Dance with angels on the moon

  Make tornados with a sigh.

  Send the stars to frenzied spinning.

  Set the spawning salmon swimming

  And send

  The wind

  With the loss that will not end.

  Let it scatter drops of grief

  Over deserts, hills and seas.

  It won’t bring me any relief

  I must have my heart’s release

  From the endless cage of sorrow

  I would have it come tomorrow

  But I

  Must die

  Ere my sorrow goes away.

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  Little Rose

  Little rose, little rose

  On the mountain growing;

  Do you feel winter winds

  In the tree tops now are blowing?

  Little rose do you sigh

  For the warmer winds of summer

  When white clouds cross the sky

  And the sun is like a hammer?

  Frozen rose would you thaw

  Bloom again in wild profusion

  When the cold goes away

  Or go into dormant seclusion?

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  I Hear Ladies Singing

  I hear ladies singing

  Funeral hymns and dirges.

  Whom do they mourn, I wonder.

  Somewhere clergy mumble

  Elegies long written

  And much used for funerals.

  Some poor person dead now,

  And beyond all caring,

  Waits the graveyard’s quiet

  Where the wind will wander

  Whispering its dirges

  In the graveyard grasses.

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  Evergreens

  The lemon tree and orange tree

  Grow green all seasons, hoping the frost

  Won’t touch the leaves. The lime and citron

  The grapefruit, too, and tangerines

  Defy the winter like pines and spruce

  Defy the snow, promising spring

  Returns each year to gladden folk.

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  Earwigs

  Folk wisdom claims it’s true;

  Earwigs crawl in ears

  To hide from predators.

  The sleeping lads and lasses

  All unaware shelter

  The pincered bugs from harm.

  What will they do should one

  Clean her ears with swabs

  Of cotton on a stick?

  Crawl out or be crushed to death?

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  Eucalyptus

  The thin bark peels from eucalyptus.

  It falls in brown shreds

  To coat the grass grown green

  From winter rains.

  We have no koalas to eat the shreds,

  No kangaroos

  To trample the shreds to dust.

  Yet Nature breaks

  The tough bark down and powders it

  To enrich the soil

  With complex chemicals

  To grow next year’s

  New strips of bark. Such mystery,

  Death and renewal

  Over and over until

  Time ends the whirl

  Of seasons through a year. We live

  With mysteries

  And somehow, we still thrive,

  With the unexplained.

  Table of Contents--Index of First Lines

  My Quiet Time

  The dogs are at the groomer’s and the cat

  Is stealing a dog-forbidden nap on my bed.

  Today the sun is bright; the air is cold.

  Somewhere folk are celebrating their dead,

  And others dance at wedding ceremonies,

  Still others bow and pray for a newborn child.

  I relish my quiet for this afternoon alone

  When winter air and sound alike have stilled.

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  The Seekers

  Elves and hobbits, dwarves and orcs

  Congregate at the western havens,

  Seeking immortal credentials.

  Christian folk seek Heaven, Muslims

  Make them ready for Paradise.

  Buddhists court serene Nirvana.

  Mortals all who hope for eternity,

  May your hopes be fruitful for you.

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  Desert Life

  Sand whispers in the whistling wind.

  By day the sun hammers the land.

  Night chill crumbles the weakened stone

  And brings forth more sand for the wind.

  Strange creatures stir from burrows they’ve made

  The stinging scorpion, the tarantula,

  Odd lizards, coyotes seeking rabbits,

  Snakes that slither with rasping sounds

  To harmonize with the sandy wind.

  Saguaro cactus and prickly pear

  Harbor whiteflies and mealybugs.

  Tough life to hang existence on.

  And yet they thrive, these desert folk.

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  The Seasons Come ‘Round

  The time comes ‘round for the year to renew.

  Again the seasons shall rotate

  In order through the passing months.

  The winter fades into the spring,

  The spring withers into summer,

  The withered summer falls to autumn
/>
  And shriveled winter comes back again.

  To lead the new year to a spring.

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  The Eastward Peaks

  The eastward peaks are white with snow.

  The setting sun will redden them

  With a coral blush before the dark

  Night cloaks them in a sable robe.

  Stars glitter overhead, small points

  Of light defying the looming dark

  Until the dawn returns to spread

  A patina of gold across

  The eastern sky to greet the day.

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  Sunset Sestina

  The west is red with ending day.

  The stars stand ready in the wings

  To dance across the sable skies.

  The fog musters on the seas

  Ready to swallow unwary stars,

  Or maybe even a bloated moon.

  The silver of the rising moon

  Strives to make the night a day.

  It begs the scattered host of stars

  For yet more light. No gulls spread wings

  To soar above the restless seas

  Or pirouette in the nighttime skies.

  If I could soar the darkened skies,

  I’d dance across the pock-marked moon

  Above the never-sleeping seas

  Or watch the golden birth of day

  Enter the east on golden wings

  That pales the glitter of the stars

  Until there are no signs of stars

  In all the brightened dome of skies.

  If I were a bird with feathered wings

  Could I ascend as high as the moon?

  Could I reach the sun by day?

  If I had fins to swim the seas

  Would sharks be free to share the seas?

  May mortals waltz among the stars?

  Or are we captives of mundane day?

  Shaking a fist against the skies

  Will we be threats to the shining moon?

  Or knock the gulls clean off their wings?

  The gulls will fly on steady wings

  Above the ever-churning seas.

  No fist will shake the rolling moon

  Or stop the dancing of the stars.

  No wiping finger will clear the skies.

  The west is red with ending day.

  And now the day on dusky wings

  Leaves darkened skies and restless seas

  The foggy stars and careless moon.

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  Spring Tanka

  The river flows west

  Fat with the snows of winter.

  The trout circle round

  The gravel to make their redds

  For springtime spawning of fry.

  The waiting ocean

  Harbors starfish, squid and sharks.

  Whales breach the wild waves

  And dolphins dance with the surf

  To celebrate the coming spring.

  Inland the jonquils

  Break their binding buds and bloom

  Golden as the new sun.

  Green grass will gladden my heart

  And thaw the winter therein.

  Table of Contents--Index of First Lines

  One January Day

  Bare branches rubbing

  The empty sky with their twigs

  Tangle in the clouds

  Running with the wind.

  The clouds obscure, then reveal

  The sun’s brilliant face.

  Somewhere the stars hide

  Waiting for the night’s return

  And the moon’s escort.

  The frost leaves the air

  As warm sun waxes warmer.

  Fleeing north until night.

  The frost waits for dark

  To return and sun to set.

  Let chill take the night.

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  January Day

  Today the skies are grey with ocean’s mist.

  The faded blue of winter’s skies is gone.

  Behind the grey that hides the distant west

  Lurks the dimly remembered summer sun.

  The green lawn shivers under frost that coats

  Its tender blades with whitened icy sheathes

  The trees stand strong above their sleeping roots

  The hibernating bear cub slowly breathes

  Beside its mother in some cave somewhere.

  The seeds of summer weeds sleep in the soil

  Until the springtime sun shall warm the air

  And melt the snow. The rivers shall rise and roil

  Down mountains and valleys and fill the lowland lakes

  With water, enough to float both ducks and drakes.

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  Funeral Plans

  My funeral plans are made,

  The hymns and scripture chosen

  I hope to comfort those

  Who remain when I am gone.

  The elegy I leave

  To clergy’s choice. Whether rain

  Or sun controls the day

  Is beyond my power to choose.

  Weep not for me, survivors,

  I am beyond all caring.

  Weep for yourselves if you must

  Weep for anyone.

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  Winter Night

  The sun and clouds play tag across the sky.

  The wind whispers a song of love long gone

  To faded leaves that do not care. The lawn

  Bends before the wind that’s passing by.

  The sun pretends to hide because it’s shy.

  Far westward waits the ever-patient moon

  For the bedtime of the blazing sun

  And night to spread its black across the high

  Dome of the heavens studded with stars so white

  They dazzle one’s eyes. Go now to rest, O clouds

  And sun, and let the moon begin its rule.

  We wish to shelter in the starry night

  As moon and stars travel the welkin’s roads

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  The Dream

  Down the stairs Madam comes

  Resplendent in crimson

  Silken gown, shod with heels

  Too high for an easy

  Descent to the lower floor.

  This I dreamed; don’t know why.

  Perhaps it was dinner,

  Or a gift of my nerves

  Or maybe a blanket

  I tossed aside in the night.

  I woke scared, breathing hard,

  Pajamas wet from sweating

  Did she hold poison rings

  Or other devices

  For sudden secret death?

  When it’s day dreams must fade

  And reality blossom

  Vulgar, bright, harsh and hard

  But I would far rather

  Live in a world of dreams.

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  Cypresses

  My cypress trees are spears

  Aimed at the sky’s blue dome

  What hands my hold them lies

  Beneath the clay and loam.

  I do not know the quarrel

  These unseen hands might have

  With the welkin’s azure bowl

  Or why the trees stand ready

  To launch an attack on the sky.

  Some mysteries I can’t

  Decipher. This is the way

  The world’s become for me,

  An unsolved mystery.

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  Winter Wind

  Hear the wind of winter blowing

  Through the treetops thrashing under

  The blue and grey cloud cover

  Of the welkin. The chill wind frosts

  The air wi
th a cutting edge of ice.

  I keep to the house where fires fight frost.

  The dogs and cat are done with cold.

  They do not linger long outdoors,

  Preferring to be with their boss and his blanket,

  He welcomes them, their warmth is comforting.

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  Daffodils

  The daffodils are in bud.

  Small seeds swell with rain

  Preparing to burst forth

  As weeds or flowers or food.

  Renew the year, o spring,

  And warm the chill I carry

  In the chambers of my heart.

  I do not welcome age

  And its touches on my flesh.

  I like the things I’ve learned,

  And now I know of things

  I’m too old to perform.

  Come, budding daffodils,

  Bloom for me now, I ask,

  In glories of gold and white.

  Drive back a while the night

  That threatens to overwhelm

  My shriveled flesh and life.

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  Rain Song

  When the rain falls from the sky

  Will I be someplace dry?

  I know the rain renews

  The winter earth for spring

  Of this I sing.

  The rain is wet and cold.

  It always is, I’m told.

  Despite its chill it readies

  The earth for warmer days

  When stems shall rise

  From the seeds that lay asleep

  In the soil layers deep

  Under the sand and sod.

  I do not curse this rain

  That comes again.

  I’ll keep indoors this storm

  Because I’d rather stay warm

  Than drip with frigid wet

  I’ll not travel the roads

  Under gray clouds.

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  The Lucky Boy

  The lucky boy finds love one time.

  A boy with a girl or sometimes with a boy,

  Some other with whom he lives in joy,

  Some other with whom he makes a home.

  Others go unloved throughout their lives,

  Forever looking for the one

  To complete them. When their time is done

  They go un-mourned to earthen graves.

  Now in my time I’ve had the gift

  Of love given to brighten my days.

  Long dead my man is; I realize

  Remembered love’s all I have left

  And that’s a treasure that has no price;

  It warms my heart with afterglow

  Of remembered times so long ago

  And eases my familiar loss.

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  Night Ends

  The long night ends in scarlet dawn

  A harsh wind rises from the sea

  The darkness fades until it’s gone.

  And then when night’s long rule is done

  The sun breaks out in ecstasy.

  The long night ends in scarlet dawn,

  Red skies made by the rising sun.

  How can such wonders come to be?

  The darkness fades until it’s gone.

  The night, so unrelieved by a moon

  Or stars in Heaven’s canopy,

  The long night ends in scarlet dawn

  Catching, unwary, a little fawn.

  The red skies blaze, a mystery.

  The darkness fades until it’s gone

  It will return when afternoon

  Has wiped the azure sky away.

  The long night ends in scarlet dawn

  The darkness fades until it’s gone.

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  Ode to Ganja

  O wondrous weed! You gift of gods

  From some old faith long forgotten,

  Or perhaps some hope of the misbegotten,

  Or yet again, against all odds,

  A vagary of nature’s way

  Made you a source of joy and peace

  With visons in your leaves of lace

  And games for my spirit to play.

  Now I bless your modified genes

  That make my spirits soar on high,

  And lift my soul above the sky

  And dull my aches and pains.

  Table of Contents--Index of First Lines

  The Lusty Youth

  The lusty youth surveyed the room

  Of folk in lacy skirts and breeches,

  Seeking the maid most near his heart.

  She was not there. He sagged with gloom.

  Amidst the multitude of maids

  His most beloved did not whirl

  Or pirouette a minuet

  Or promenade in measured steps

  To strings and winds in harmony

  Entwined. Perhaps the powder room?

  That refuge sacred to womankind

  Could harbor ladies safely for hours.

  But how to know? He looked about

  For a dowager to ask her to check

  For the sweet young maid. Then she entered

  On the arm of a handsome man unknown

  To him who sought her. She waved her fan

  To coax a languorous breeze to cool

  Her fevered cheeks. She nodded slightly

  At some word her escort spoke.

  She turned and kissed the unknown man

  And they waltzed as two lovers will.

  The lusty youth sighed once, defeated,

  And assessed the other maids in the room.

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  I Wrap Me in Clouds

  I wrap me in clouds

  Gray as the skies above my head

  For I am saddened

  By the dark that looms

  Deep in the core of my soul,

  Festering away.

  I long for a lance

  To drain the sore within me,

  Cleanse my weeping wound,

  So I can wrap the sun

  Around me and stride the world

  Glowing bright with pride.

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  The Meadowlark

  Earth bound bird

  Often I’ve heard

  Your loud cheery song

  As I walked the fields

  Rough with stubble

  Flightless one.

  Earth bound bird,

  On this small plain

  Where there are no larks

  You echo in me

  The songs of home

  Remembered bird.

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  Rose-Red Skies

  Day dies in rose red skies.

  The shaded hand of night

  Wipes black across the sky

  And pricks the holes for stars

  And peeping moon to see

  The frost that coats the