A Final Moment (or two) of Doubt

The if not now when

That I hear now and again

Does that count

As being in

The present moment

I wonder

The same way

I hear the same bird

Singing

Over and over

I get carried away

All too easily

By the slightest

Suggestion of spring

With the bird

Still singing and

The sunlight strafing me

On a frigid March afternoon

Even the hollow sound

Of the neighborhood kids

Playing out of doors

And the car door slamming

Not so far away

Can't help but
Remind me of all

The warmer days

Soon to come

For the Omphalos on the Supermarket Shelf

As if phallus

And omphalos

Decided to share

 A single self

The flower petal 

Streaked with green

Still throbbing with life

It constitutes an in-store

Display of the purest kind

A flower sermon delivered

There on the supermarket shelf

* * * * *

Photo by M. Bridge

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The Same Storm Coming and Going

This afternoon I went out for a walk along Ponquogue Beach.  A chill wind was blowing in from the east in what could be the last of this winter's storms.  And it reminded me of this long running dispute between me and Marissa, one of those half-serious arguments that spans half our marriage.  She says a nor'easter is one of those storms that sweeps up the coast, originating in the Caribbean, and I say it's one of those that slams into us from the north Atlantic, the winds rising from the north east.

And of course, as with most such long running marital spats, we're both correct.  That's the very nature of the cyclonic effect of life.  Like any good marriage, it's two vectors coming together as part of the same storm, coming and going, the winds redoubled in size.

Ode to Saying No (to the proposed PPD)

Dear Editors:

I am a resident of the village of East Quogue.  I am also a poet and currently serve (by self-proclamation) as the official poet laureate of Weesuck Creek. 

It is in my official capacity that I am writing to express my strong opposition to Discovery Land Company's proposed luxury golf resort development known as the Hills.   Mindful that some of my neighbors may harbor views to the contrary, I believe I speak for most of my constituents, including a large majority of the residents who live along both the east and west banks of Weesuck Creek.  I also speak on behalf of a large community of shorebirds, including the gulls, egrets, ospreys and cormorants with whom I make it my business to commune as frequently as possible.  To a bird (I am utterly certain) they are unanimously opposed to this project.

Although it may exceed the word limit for letters to the editor I ask you to consider publication of the following poem that I have written to mark this occasion and through which I am making publicly known my position on this pressing issue.

Ode to Saying No (to the proposed PPD)

For Discovery shall

Hold no sway here

Nor shall luxury

Claim dominion

Over the Pine Barrens

Build as of right

Or leave it in peace

Let the tides alone

Speak about variance

Nor is there need

For abatement given

The fragile state of

Our wetlands paradise

Where all is but lost and  

Then again reclaimed 

Twice every day

What hangs in the balance

Is one of earth’s remaining

Sacred spots Achabaca

Weesuck Creek by name

Sanctuary to shorebird

And songbird alike

Retirees from the city

Distinguished members

Of the building trades

First responders and

Assorted Bonackers

And Shinnecocks all

With their competing claims

We have staked out 

Our lots on this sandbar

Forever certain that

Although the ground 

Continues to shift

Beneath our feet

We will forever resist

The notion that we

May attain any value

Through Discovery

If that means putting 

At risk this fragile beauty

With which we are

Otherwise sustained

The Difference between a Poem and a Tweet

Sometimes it's hard to see much difference between a poem and a tweet. Character counts for everything. Best keep what's said short and sweet.

Between Blossom and Freeze

The changes in the weather are said to be extreme and so far this spring it’s been nip and tuck between blossom and freeze. I saw a crocus on the lawn this morning and then a little later discovered a rime of ice remained down by the Creek.

Encouraged by a warm west wind, the willow in my neighbor’s front yard began to glow this afternoon, the first real aureole and irreversible sign of spring -- a pale yellow fire fueled by the slanting rays of the afternoon sun. With the catkins' arrival it’s hard to believe tomorrow's forecast calls for 2 inches of snow and then a day or so later perhaps we will get to welcome the first daffodil. So the lion and lamb have muddled together as one.

Poem for Early March

On the negative side
There's the problem
I've encountered recently
With the brussels sprouts
On the positive
I can think of
Well over a hundred
Things I feel truly
Grateful about
On this the second
Day of March
The Ides not being far behind
But already I find myself
Overwhelmed with love
For the earth again and
The unfolding campaign
To reclaim the garden

It really is a matter of commitment. Going along day by day, finally I got to the point where I realized there is no point in holding back any longer - today is the day I decided to declare the first day of spring here on Fourth Neck. (This is part of my responsibility as the self-proclaimed poet laureate for my littoral zone.) We had a heavy wind out here on Long Island but it was blustery and not cold - just the way a late March wind is supposed to blow. And then I noticed this hyacinth that had just about turned the corner and all but decided to bloom. And that's when I decided to write my first poem for this spring - the earliest date on which I have ever committed to do so up until this year.  As my friend Peter Rippon put it: boing boing ... here's to the spring.