My husband's poetry

Category: Aging

  • spring haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    latent amidst green lives autumn’s colors and death waiting for its time 5/27/24

  • still life

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    in a pretty vase waist deep in tap water trying not to die beauty caught in full-bloom strikes an objectified pose the compost pile is calling 5-7-24

  • adjustments

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    through a gap in trees light finds my face warms my skin I luxuriate in the moment then adjust my chair and return to the shade out of sun away from cancer they cut from my skin ____ how many weddings happy days in the sun did we attend in our youth then watched from…

  • Memories

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    in bare trees high overhead squirrels chase shadows on the ground and do not make a sound In last year’s dead leaves 2-21-24

  • an old friend

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    All night I dreamed of an old friend who lived across the back yard fence and moved away in ’65’ we talked of old times and how we landed in our now we talked about his sister, mother and father we talked of how home is no longer home he talked of going to the…

  • Yellow leaf

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Yellow leaf on branch tomorrow you will fall to ground by Sunday you will turn brown Monday’s squirrels will play in the rattle of your past the wind will chase you to the border of the woods where you may decompose in solitude 11-9-23

  • Of the pond

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    two weeks ago three yellow goslings followed parents around the pond last week they were gone maybe it was a hawk maybe avian flu either way they are gone this morning, the geese swam around each other in ever narrowing circles until necks intertwined she shook her tail feathers and preened them back in place…

  • Greening clover

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , , ,

    Today is the anniversary of my birth; a day when I was innocent and my parents were not yet disappointed. I put on old shoes and a rain suit, grab the umbrella from its place on the porch and walk in the park. Beside the pond I recite the name of God and ask for…

  • This is how it ends

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    like storm litter on the ground you’ll give up trying to hang on wind will push you from your perch someone will come and haul you away maybe you’ll rot in a landfill maybe you’ll ascend In fire pit smoke either way, when your time comes you’ll release your grip and flee 5-1-23

  • City groundskeeping 101

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    (soon to come: Potholes 101) This morning, in the park, everywhere, I move mowers and weed whackers seem to follow me. They cut grass and weeds and trash (they’re too lazy to pick up before they mow). If it don’t rain, the leaf blower guy will push it all into tall grass along the tree…