Haiku - June 30, 2023
Haiku - June 30, 2023 It’s sixty-two out Moderate air quality Best day yet this week
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Showing posts from June, 2023
A Beautiful Day Inside
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A Beautiful Day Inside It is a beautiful sunny day. But we can’t go outside. The air is unhealthy. You can see it hovering. It’s not just the industrial and vehicular pollution. Now, in addition, it’s the smoke from Canadian wildfires. Wildfires caused by drought, a result of climate change, driven by industrial and vehicular pollution. We need to break this vicious cycle. We need to stop polluting before it stops us, stops us cold.
Bad Smoke
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Bad Smoke Climate change causes drought Drought in - of all places - Canada Drought means vast wild fires Brings smoke to the U.S. Unhealthy, even dangerous, smoke Dangerous to the lungs Outdoor workers have to work Work through the haze to pay the rent To buy the gas to drive their smoke maker Their smoke maker, their car Like we all do, all of us If air you can see isn’t a wake-up call, what is? We must stop making the climate change Or we will all end up dead on a lifeless planet
So Soon Old, and Yet So Late Shmart
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“So Soon Old, and Yet So Late Shmart!” Overheard an old guy say this in a bar a long, long time ago. Old so soon, smart so late How did I get to be 68? Wait a minute, I’m not 68, I’m 76. Try again… Old so soon, I’m 76 Older and older as the clock ticks A back that clicks and other licks From heavy lifting, what a fix! Even small grandkid too heavy to lift But grandkids are an old man’s gift OK, I’m old and so late shmart But one thing I’ve got is a grateful heart
How can a Coffee Table be like a Waterfall?
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How can a Coffee Table be like a Waterfall? It’s not easy, but possible for a master woodworker like Keith Singleton. He fashioned the coffee table from one slab of two-inch thick walnut, the slab side legs joined to the top with accuracy. How so? The grain on the table top lines up with the grain on the side legs, looking like the currents of a river as they fall over a waterfall. Precision craftsmanship. How do I know this? Keith is my son, the owner of Singleton Woodworks. Patti and I get to appreciate his artistry every day throughout our home in Fox Crossing. Whether it be the tables he crafted, the bathroom he remodeled, the deck he built, the shed he refurbished, or the pond he dug, he builds with imagination and creativity. His latest project, a spiral staircase. Talk about the need for accuracy!
The Power of Water
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The Power of Water In its many forms... To make smooth a jagged stone over thousands of years To form mountains of clouds in the skies To rain down a deluge and end a drought To flood a city, and remind that Nature is in charge To sculpt a cavern and a canyon To crack a cliff riddled with frozen fissures To frost beautifully a window in winter, or festoon a house with icicles To make the paint of choice for water colorists To float and protect nascent life in the womb To change from liquid form to solid ice To fall as snow in the mountains and plains To melt and flow in the springing rivers To blanket the Earth in fog To quench the thirst of mankind and all Earth’s beings To form ice so massive it sinks unwary ships To barrel down a mountain as an avalanche To cool oneself with a plunge on a summer beach To be, in its salty form, a major part of the Earth’s surface To float the boats of discovery To partner with the wind to sail a sailboat To provide a medium for all Earth’...
The Waterfall
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The Waterfall Streaming water gushes over the rocky ledge. Sparkling clear liquid splashes and bubbles and plays and gurgles, becoming frothy and translucent as it courses downstream. Counter-intuitively, an opposite flow eddies back, revolving around, pool-side, below the falls. The rocks in the river bed, worn smooth over eons of water coursing grit over them, seem to move, alive in the current. Waves of light reflected off the churning water dance on the rocky bank. As the sun sets and darkness pervades, the waterfall tells of its presence only by its unmistakable sound. A waterfall is a delight like no other.
Star Maker
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Star Maker Writers write, right? Nothing to write about? Do what you’re doing right now, Putting words on paper. Writing. Hey, that makes me a writer! Writing about Nothing. The Void. The space between stars. After all, there wouldn’t be stars, If there weren’t spaces between them. I guess that makes me a Star Maker. All I have to do is to write about Nothing, And the stars will appear. A teeming galaxy, just beyond the Void.
Robin Hood in the Fox Valley
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Robin Hood in the Fox Valley Robin Hood and Little John and Friar Tuck and Will Scarlett. Alan A-Dayle and Maid Marian and the Sheriff of Nottingham. With a supporting cast of dozens, dozens of children, For it was “Kidstage, Where Every Kid’s a Star!” And stars they were, given a chance to shine on stage before a large audience. They robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, alright, For they stole our hearts, then gave them back enriched.
Ancient One
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Ancient One What’s the upside of being a gray beard? You can shave it off. An old hand? You can still write. An old timer? You’re wise in the ways of the world, owly-wise. An antique? They collect them. In homes. With nurses. Not a codger, nor a geezer. It’s too soon for that, and too pejorative. A fossil? There’s the rub. Actually, could use one on my stiff back. The best part of being an ancient one? Also, being a grandpa!
Early June Afternoon
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Early June Afternoon Cottony seeds fall as snow squalls swarm Cottonwood yields white like a winter storm Quite a few ended-up in our backyard pond I’ll scoop and pump the cottony fronds Tadpoles scurry, wag their tails in a hurry As I scoop and pump the cottony slurry As I fill the pond with clear, fresh water My winged friends put up quite a chatter A blaze of orange dines at the oriole feeder A flash of red does so at the cardinal feeder Their chirps and peeps say “thanks for dinner” Sunflower seed is always a winner
Summer Snow
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Summer Snow I wake up. I open the curtain. I blink my eyes. Still a bit in Wisconsin’s never-ending-winter mode, I think, “It’s June. It’s warm. What are all those white flakes doing floating down the sky?” Well, it’s not snow, They’re not flakes. And they’re not from the sky. They are cottony-looking. They’re the reason the nearby trees are called cottonwoods. And these trees really know how to spread their seeds. It’s a blizzard of white.
Cloud Eagle
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Cloud Eagle Looking east over the Great Lake waters, I saw a white bird in the cloud, that is, the bird was the cloud, an eagle with wings stretched across the sky. Startlingly, I saw the same bird with his vast wings when last I looked up in the sky over this Lake a year ago. What is the cloud eagle telling me ? Perhaps, with his outstretched wings in an attitude of protection, that this Great Lake’s waters needs to be safeguarded from pollution, and that I and all mankind need to protect all the precious waters of the Earth.
The Stars of Our Show
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The Stars of Our Show There’s big rock stars, mid-size boulder stars, and little rock stars, p ebble stars we’ll call them. Now the crystalline stars - diamonds and emeralds and others of that ilk - are costly. And the musical stars - the tune spinners who make records of gold - are rich and famous. But the most precious are those like the ones in our family - Pebble stars like Isla, Georgie, August, Petra, Athena, and Daniel. And the boulder stars: Kai, Connor, George, and Logan. They rock!