Frank Ryan

Walking to Jamaica Pond

First I took twenty-one steps

down to asphalt parking lot

turning right toward the guard gate

where each service truck, each resident is examined

to determine whether they can enter

or not

Then ambled along the narrow roadway leading to the cacophony of unremitting river of yellow school buses, automobile and bicycles; majestic morning sun rises from the east regret

that it took so many minutes

until the traffic light

melted from green to red

At last worn walking path circling

the ancient kettle pond

fifty-three deep at the center;

we have been told that

most don’t return your glance

but neither do they ignore you—

pretty good for twenty twenty- four

 

 

~~

Yearning

For graceful swan

On February’s glacial pond

~~

 

Eileen Malloy

 

Who?

Who’s going to lay the hoses when I am dead?

Who will pluck the hoary cress

So it doesn’t get out of hand?

Who will carry on the conversations I was having with friends?

Who will I complain to, when I am gone?

~~

New Girl Rhumba

I’d stay up late for you baby

Tho it messes with my mind.

I’d get up early with you babe,

Though that’s my own special time.

 

I’d give up pot baby

If you asked me to

But I gotta tell you woman,

That’d be a cruel thing to do.

 

I’d do the dishes baby

Which is what I do

But I’d do them every night my friend

If that’s what you want me to

 

I’d do them every night baby

If that’s what you want me to

 

Let’s get close baby

So close, there’s nothing between us at all

Then afterwards babe

Get outta each other’s hair.

~~

In the Cabin at DKD

In the cabin at DKD

Sweeping the floor becomes not tedious nor content,

but okay.  Effortless. Suddenly and only for a moment

Everything is so easy.

At home, I fumble with the Tupperware,

And finally have to take them all down to get the lid I need.

Because out of retreat, time is chasing you every minute.

~~

Senyru VIII

A cottonwood fluff flies across my screen and skitters across the plastic table cloth.

~~

 

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