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 | Shirley Marsh on WOODSTOCK |
| David Allen on Fishing for Answers |
| David Allen on Fishing for Answers |
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Photo by D.H.Allen
THE LAST LEAF
By David Allen
I am the last leaf,
the last on the bough.
Brown and brittle,
I’ve taken a vow
to mourn for my more
colorful friends
who took the plunge
to drift to the ground.
I saw them settle
into piles on the lawn,
where they were raked or rotted,
no matter, they’re gone.
And as the days drift by,
I keep watch on a few
other lonely leaves,
wondering who
will be the last to fall.
TREES IN WINTER
Winter reveals
The trees’ inner nature,
Like x-rays showing
Their intricate systems
Spread out like veins,
Nerves and bones.
No leaves to mask their age.
Young trees, slender branches
Lifting straight into the sky,
As if in prayer or celebration.
Older trees, thicker branches
Some bowed, knotty, amputations,
Arteries eaten by unseen invaders;
In their upper reaches, squirrel and bird
Nests appear as cancerous growths.
And then there are the dead trees,
Obese, torn trunks, bark like peeling skin,
Branches akimbo, some detached
Resting in their neighbors arms.
Like monuments, crosses.
These trees tell a tale of the final days,
The ravaging we all face in the end.
By David Allen
This winter has been horribly cold! Damn the Polar Vortex. It reminds me of another time I ventured from my subtropical home in Okinawa to visit my kids. Here’s the resulting poem.
ON THE ROAD IN INDIANA IN NOVEMBER
Goddamn it’s cold!
Bone fucking chilling
cold!
Oh God, please don’t let me
have to live in this your forsaken
place again!
It’s too goddamn cold!
I just saw my motherfugging breath!
This is proof that we should
embrace global warming,
not fear it.
Warm me up Scotty!
Called my love, teeth chattering
across the continent and over the ocean
to our subtropical paradise.
It warmed my evening.
I’ll call again tomorrow
from some Pennsylvania motel
attempting to warm myself up.
JESUS it’s cold!
Breakfast at a Cracker Barrel
In My-God-It’s-Freezing Fort Wayne.
Who the hell ever thought
grits was an acceptable breakfast food?
But the coffee refills were free
and the two eggs over easy
and biscuits and gravy
and turkey sausages assuaged
my cold- numbed soul.
“A month of this?”
my innervoice asked.
“I know,” I answered.
“Hell has just frozen over.”
| David Allen on WOODSTOCK |
| Shirley Marsh on WOODSTOCK |
| David Allen on Fishing for Answers |
| David Allen on Fishing for Answers |
| Ray on Fishing for Answers |
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