Old Albert Hofmann,

the day after biking high,

pressed onward in his research.

~

He had hopes that through

LSD we’d come to see

nature and ourselves deeply.

Hoping to find some

magic, they traveled the world.

All the time, it was at home.

~

Using arcane keys

found on various journeys

opened hidden doors to them.

When linemen gather

Discussing state of the art

Sparks are sure to fly

–

When poets gather

the sparks they strike create rhymes

in search of created verse.

The road was lined with

buttercups bringing color

to an otherwise gray day.

~

Though the grey highway

winds its way into the gloom

buttercups gild its passage.

Somewhere in between

My idea and your reading

A poem is born

~

And even if not

one person reads it, it’s here

alive and waiting.

Knox briefly paused, then

quickly chased that retreating

fox, inviting him to play.

~

As the quick brown fox,

spying a quite spry young pup,

chose to quickly quit the field.

As days grow longer,

instead of dancing all night,

why choose an early bedtime.?

~

Choices increase as

options expand. How will we

spend this increase in daylight?

They dine together,

those two cardinals, but take

time for a beak to beak kiss.

~

Those beaky smoochers

need to be together more

to curtail public displays!

Awash in numbers

Eyes pulsating with fatigue

Just take the money, I beg!

~

All our resources

are taxed by April fifteenth

each and every year.

Before the sun’s up

they are, these cats, dogs, and birds,

telling us to rise and shine.

~

Choose not to succumb

no matter how insistent

their demanding seems

Must poetry be

analyzed and sterilized

in professorial form?

~

Not unless you want

poetry to slowly be

stripped of its vitality.

Eclipse was eclipsed

by Knox’s discovery

of nearby squirrels and sticks.

~

Nature in all forms,

From eclipses to lichens,

deserves our rapt attention.

If you’re doing good

so they’ll see you being good

you’re, likely, not really good.

~

The why can be as

important as the what, but

the good that is done still counts.

Clear skies, sunlit trees,

birdsong in the air – why stay

inside when all that’s out there?

~

The air is quite crisp

and the birdsong’s wanting for

the redolence of wood smoke.

Dreamy denizens

Scatter like the fey of old

At the alarm’s first shrilling

~

Those who live inside

nearly collide in their rush

for their morning meal.

Checking out seems to

be our family’s tendency.

It’s about heredity.

~

But we still check in…

with some gentle needling

and unsubtle wheedling.

That geezer in checks?

He’s not trying to be cool;

He’s just an old boomer nerd.

~

At a certain point

being cool is no longer

hot. Being comfortable is.

Trees, bushes, flowers,

and grass all welcome April’s

gift of needed rain.

~

Though rivers run wide,

drowning riparian blooms,

they nourish future flowers.

Fond recollections

and a chance to reminisce

drive us many mile from home.

~

Long drives are made much

easier with companions

and shared memories.

Tricks aren’t confined to

April 1st if you are Trump

or part of his team.

~

It’s less about “tricks”,

in my humble opinion,

than the illusion of “treats”.

Surprising fire

illuminating the night

testament of wedded bliss

~

I celebrate your

fire and the coolness of

what you choose to share.

Saturdays sometimes

bring rest, but more often they’re

used for catch-ups and errands.

~

Those Saturday tasks

may seem onerous at first,

but can be meditative.

No pressing demand

generously grants to us

leisurely awakenings.

~

Let’s treasure these days

and bask in the pleasure of

every leisurely moment.

This patch of land has

held me for more than twenty

years, thanks to your wife and you..

~

For us, it’s just land.

On it you have built a home

and that makes all the difference.

From those wizened hands.

through which every tool would slip,

emerge the most wondrous works.

~

Years have gone into

this artisan’s craft with such

amazing results.

We patch together

bits and pieces and believe we’ve

formed a quilt of truth.

~

Like kaleidoscopes,

what we see contains the truth,

obscured by glittering gems.

Boneless with fatigue

rising from this chair to bed

seems the herculean task

~

Sisyphus says you’ll

move from chair to bed before

he completes his task.

Reminding my son

to do his part, only to

find I had failed to do mine.

~

They say “shit happens”.

I say that’s all well and good

If the poetry don’t stink.

As sails luff, useless,

we flounder without rudder

and we make no steerageway.

~

Waiting for changing

winds, we sit and talk

about bringing oars next time.

Looking closely, we

might find several treasures

we unwisely left behind.

~

Leaving things behind

may not be all that unwise;

looking at their cost to keep.