Mar. 31st, 2013 03:24 pm
hafoc: (Default)
Mucking out the barn in the cold
Back aching, but done, finally,
He walked across the muddy barnyard
In the lowering sun,
Habit, really,
The watering trough wouldn't freeze today.

In the edge of the melting snowbank
Beneath and behind the trough
A flash of pale blue.
He picked it up,
A mitten, muddy,
A hole worn in the thumb,
A small mitten.
He held it for a long time,
Just looking at it.

Beneath the mud the ground was still frozen
So he got the pick, went to the garden
Here, in the row where Edith grew her flowers
Daisies, zinnias,
The marigolds that would be bright
As the sun he longed for,
Bobbing in the breeze of summer
That would come, that had to come

He used the pick to make a hole
Then laid the mitten safe in the ground,
Covered it over, kneeling in the mud
Looking down at the little mound
Of earth, mud, and snow.

The sun had set.
Back to the house, then, hurrying,
He scraped off what mud he could,
Went in, lit the lamp.

"Fred? Where are you? Fred!"
Trembling, he took the lamp
And hurried in to her.

She was sitting up in bed,
Pale and weak, but eyes clear.
"I'm here," he said. "I will always be here."
"Oh, look at the mud on your clothes! You're a fright."
"I'll take care of it," he said.
"It's March, nearly April."
Her eyes blanked for a moment, and then cleared.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
He bent over and hugged her.
"Yes, I'm fine," he said,
Hugging her tighter, yet gently.
"Everything's all right."
Squeezing his eyes closed, tight.


Mar. 10th, 2013 04:40 pm
hafoc: (Default)
My Mom tells stories:
"Years before you were born
Your father took me duck hunting.
I asked 'How do you tell ducks from geese?'
He got all serious, the way he did when he taught
And he said 'The geese flap their wings slowly, like this.'"
She put her arms out and flapped them a couple times a second,
ba-woosh, ba-woosh
"'while the ducks flap quickly, like this.'"
She jerked her arms up and down frantically
"Still with that solemn
Science Teacher's face he had.
I giggled. I laughed at him. I couldn't help it.
He was mad at me, for a little while."

A dreary day, gray, the road seems endless
But there's the first rain of the season
And a line of waterfowl,
A scratch sketched in the cloudy sky,
Flying north, promise of the coming Spring.
Their wings go FlkFlkFlkFlkFlkFlk.
Thanks, Dad.

Hitler 9684

Nov. 1st, 2012 05:33 pm
hafoc: (Default)
The 9683rd Next Hitler
Curses the darky who cut him off
On his way to pick up the kids.

Some Thursdays, at bowling
Noticing they let Them in
Just as if they were people
He thinks how he'd set things right
If he got what he deserved,

The ball rumbles down the boards
Like the thunder of doom.
The pins are blown aside
Like buildings in an iron rain of bombs.
hafoc: (Default)
Chris poses an interesting question. Was Tom Bombadil evil? Nah.. more indifferent, I'd say. Oh, good natured certainly, in an abstract way, but human affairs weren't his worry.

Isn't that what you'd expect in a godlike being, really? Dictators and saints try to manipulate or compel people to live in certain ways, but that's because their chief concern is other people or because there's no other source of power to accomplish their ends. A God wouldn't be limited to working through human agents, and probably wouldn't concern themselves with humans. We think God's biggest concern is getting us to Heaven or sending us to Hell or numbering the hairs on our heads, but certainly a God who had created the whole Universe would have more important things to worry about than us. Thinking God is watching us so closely is just our vanity speaking.

Hmm, bunny grazing in the yard- no, two bunnies. Cute! I bet they think the yard was created just for their benefit.

The bunnies think God made me
To tend a lawn
So they can nibble
This sweet, dew-dropped grass.
I wonder, are they right?

Of course the Jesus People say the whole universe was created for our benefit. Ridiculous. I remember something about that Intelligent Design fraud the Jesus People tried to pull in Pennsylvania that time, some priest blathering that to believe anything else destroyed human dignity. What kind of dignity is it if it has to be based on a lie, and a stupid one at that? But then he's a priest, he's used to such things.


A hundred billion
Galaxies, made just for us?
If you say so, Ace.

Well, it's haiku in form. But I think I can do better.

Maybe redo the bunnies too. I can't do them both as one haiku, not clever enough for that today, but I can do a pair to go together.

Bunnies nibble grass
Think I was made to tend lawns
For their convenience

We look at the sky
And think the infinite stars
Were all made for ours

What do you call a pair of haiku that have to go together? Are they even haiku? It's really one poem, not two.

Oh well, it is what it is.
hafoc: (Default)
In my opinion
Nature's beauty would be fine
Without mosquitoes


Sep. 19th, 2011 05:55 pm
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In Grandfather's town you carried
a spark of time on your wrist
through a wilderness of trackless hours.

Lit from the kitchen clock
in the predawn darkness,
before work,

Setting hands, twisting the knob,
to wind the dime-store watch,
Finger and thumb with special ridges
Of callus, from decades against sharp edges
and the resistance of springs.

At noon each day the tornado siren wailed
And 532 sets of fingers
moved to reset 532 drifting watches
To realign another day
With eternity.

January 2015

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