as published online: Highland Park Poetry
Here comes Michael Phelps
through the water to wild yelps.
I’m jealous of his skill to swim.
For me, it’s straight back to the gym!
Take a look at Joe Biden,
the high road he’s sure been ridin’,
but pretty soon he’ll disappear
to V.P. heaven and a beer.
Of the Obamas I’ll take Michelle,
a tall and gorgeous bombshell.
Soon she’ll have to take backseat
to pretty daughters: admit defeat!
Have you heard of Elizabeth Warren
harping on good fiscal carin’?
For my money I like the mattress
to counteract the dollar stress.
Because of what happened
this garden is my refuge,
this silence amongst purple coleus
trailing inquisitive vinca vines.
I hear not one opinion
uttered from the plants,
just their perky faces toward morning light,
their spines straight with innocence
and disregard for my life,
or possibly standing tall
to demonstrate graceful endurance.
Only their lives matter—being God’s
earthly ambassadors, holding
no one accountable for silliness.
Even the overgrown fern
showers delight from its crowded
nest of green fronds,
drooping, bowing to reality.
Time, I say.
Time they tell me is needed
for strides of growth. Time and rain—
rain from dark clouds pouring
into patient soil, rearing
the pointed caladium leaves of fiery red
and starlight of white impatiens’ flowers.
My Patio in August
- A book of poems about fungi, mushrooms.
One wild mushroom is named Angel’s Wings, pure white and shell shaped.
This new book is poems dwelling on the wonder and surprise of so many kinds of mushrooms
that are found in the woods. Peretti watercolors on both covers; ink illustrations inside.
Find this book in the “Bookstore” of http://www.blurb.com