Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Chasing Sunsets

The sun faded in front of him as he headed west.

No matter how fast he drove,

The golden goal eluded him nightly,

Hiding carefully on the back side of the world.

And he ignored everything trying to catch the sun:

The vast cornfields of Iowa, the orange waters of the Colorado River

Flowing through canyons of ancient clay, and the sounds,

The sights, his wife.

“When I get to the shore,

You’ll be waiting for me,” he chided his nemesis.

And so he chased that sun until he got to the Golden coast,

Where the sun did, in fact, wait. Then laughed.

Then faded out of his sight.

July, 2008

Power Outage

Power Outage
The heat from this – the hottest day of the year –
Caused the electricity in the entire town to go out,
Presumably from everyone in the area
Turning on their air-conditioners at the same time.
(What good it did them … and the rest of the town)

With not much food in the refrigerator to go bad,
I placed the beer in a large cooler,
Went to the store for a couple bags of ice,
bought another 6-pack in case I run out,
returned home and took the cooler by the pool.

I imagined thousands of people lying on their couches,
Probably with a fan going,
Even more likely with a cell phone in hand,
Calling the electric company complaining of the problem,
And keeping one eye always on the blank clock above the stove.

I sat alone by the pool with a book in complete silence.
The pool’s filter was not running, the hum of the water treatment
Plant made no sound, nor was there a radio,
Loudly playing from neighbor’s yards,
Music I rarely liked to listen to myself.

The only sounds were page flips, and prose bouncing off my brain,
directly into my heart when a stanza rang true.
The birds, too, hiding from the heat in shade, sporadically chirped,
As if they also read a line that touched them so deeply enough
That they wanted to share in my delight.

As sun sank lower behind the trees that line my yard,
the words slowly faded from my sight, and, without
a light to turn on, my reading for the day was done.
How much misery people must be enduring, I thought,
of having to talk and listen without the aid of music or television.

All day long, non-readers were forced to suffer constant conversation.
Hearing stories they wished not to hear,
Telling tales to others, who reciprocated their disinterest.
Silence broke when the hum of electricity elicited a cheer from bored lovers.
It is truly sad how far away we’ve traveled from each other.

Summer

Song of Summer’s End

And so summer sank down to autumn,

Like Sunday into a Monday morning.

Aware of the metaphor like the new

Breeze that blows this time of year.

Everything begins earlier: the streets clearing,

The light illuminating front porches,

Retreating to the pillow to finish that chapter,

The moons tug-of-war with the sun.

Our eyes adjust to the dark, like our

Body’s clock to our new schedule,

Our clothes to our clientele,

Trading our choice of books for theirs.

The morning cup of coffee seems more

Imperative now than ever, clear-headed

Lazy mornings will now be spent stressing

Looking for keys or a matching sock.

Give me my August back, with campfires

And summer flames roaring at peak heat.

Give me my August, with blue horizons over

Mountaintops, and the lilacs still blooming with hope.

Auden said, “Time will say nothing but I told you so,”

Yet we still cheat on logic with our faith.

August 2008