September just got here! Where did it go? Poems

From the upper deck of 505 Spring Street, Eureka Springs

 

early fall crispness

through the woods, a roof

catching the sunlight

~~

 

early-morning

brouhaha by crows

in the north yard

~~

 

a busy Monday

bras and blue jeans

in the same wash load

~~

 

southern high-schooler

warming up her vehicle

in late September

~~

 

the house demolished

in the yard, the Virgin

Mary still standing

~~

from a crisp brown leaf,

September 2015

c PL

September Cinquains

brother Guy Couch's begonia

 

HIDDEN

The height

of deceit: a

perfect windfall pear, just

right for breakfast, yielded a mere

six bites.

 

FAUNA

Plumb-lined

in a row: CAT

crouching on the porch edge

eyeing the sitting SQUIRREL. Beyond,

a BIRD.

 

ANOTHER TIME, PERHAPS?

A black

butterfly flits

toward the bucket of pears

ready to be "worked up." I show,

it goes.

 

MID-SEPTEMBER, 2012

Bringing

the portable

heater inside to warm

the bathroom after a dip in

the temp.

 

BAROMETER

During

the night, my toes

ached. 'The weather's changing'

I thought. Sure enough, thunderstorms

forecast.

 

SUSTENANCE

Outside

the south window,

a juvenile, gray bird

feasts on a circlet of beauty-

berries.

 

c 2015 PL

New poem: an acrostic for autumn

PL- summer '15

 

T oday's fog

H indered visibility.

E ager to sit out in the

 

C ool, 69-degree morning, a

H alcyon start to

A day a ways out from a

N ew season--autumn, fall-- with

G abby birds flying

I n and out of the trees,

N aturally attuned,

G etting ready.

 

S o, too, in earth's cooling, I

E dge toward autumn tasks:

A im to finish the

S idewalk

O ut to the street,

N eaten the flower beds . . . .

 

 

PL - 9. 10. 2015

POEMS FOR LABOR DAY: William Carlos Williams & Edgar A Guest

Whatever way to labor--professionally or DIY

 

FINE WORK WITH PITCH AND COPPER

by William Carlos Williams

 

Now they are resting

in the fleckless light

separately in unison

 

like the sacks

of sifted stone stacked

regularly by twos

 

about the flat roof

ready after lunch

to be opened and strewn

 

The copper in eight

foot strips has been

beaten lengthwise

 

down the center at right

angles and lies ready

to edge the coping

 

One still chewing

picks up a copper strip

and runs his eye along it

 

--from Selected Poems

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THE BETTER JOB

by Edgar A. Guest

 

If I were running a factory

I'd stick up a sign for all to see;

I'd print it large and I'd nail it high

On every wall that the men walked by;

And I'd have it carry this sentence clear:

"The 'better job' that you want is here!"

 

It's the common trait of the human race

To pack up and roam from place to place;

Men have done it for ages and do it now;

Seeking to better themselves somehow

They quit their posts and their tools they drop

For a better job in another shop.

 

It may be I'm wrong, but I hold to this--

That something surely must be amiss

When a man worth while must move away

For the better job with the better pay;

And something is false in our own renown

When men can think of a better town.

 

So if I were running a factory

I'd stick up this sign for all to see,

Which never an eye in the plac could miss:

"There isn't a better town than this!

You need not go wandering, far or near--

The 'better job' that you want is here!"

 

--from Collected verse of Edgar A. Guest

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