GHOSTS IN THE QUAD

We                                                         

drift in unseen

to view vacant places

when others leave.

Podiums, distinguished chairs,

or various labs –

once our commands –

now, haunts,

hallowed campus spaces

through which we used to volley

lectures, handouts,                                  

and other old tools of the trade

at targets

claiming to seek betterment.                

Now we catch our wind,       

amazed at today’s ways

passing through

our faded substance.

                              

With no grindstones to nose,

we enjoy the pleasures

of gardens, bookstores, libraries,

old pathways and cafes, 

and scavenge for hints of the leavings,

we once thought useful –

enough to will to a future –

which now requests

money.      

DRK

7/29/09
7/7/16

   NOVEMBER EXTRA-
ORDINAIRE

The best November asset
just may
be the ride one gets
when Advent’s cusp is passed
and it’s a downhill thrill
to Christmas day.

A young man,
three years in public service
    . . . promoting service . . .
stirred us up
with indiscriminate love affairs,
attracting followers everywhere
and cascading consequences
down to us today.

Never mind the fears that had him treed.
We cling to the news
that he was raised and we were freed
to continue his love story.

And as our November now wears on,
growing its darkness and creepy cold
I question my love affairs.
Are they warm enough?  Consequent free?
Do they light up too few?
And whom do I excuse
as too . . . too?

Come in . . . bring some wood for the fire.
We’ll use candles for atmosphere.
And while we’re here
let’s pause.
Honor the mother
who grew that babe
and cradled his desire
to learn to serve.

Y’all come, y’hear.

DRK
3/30/11

    NOVEMBER BETWEEN REVISITED

Went out to the pool to see,
but the grandchildren hadn’t come today
Instead the sun directed me
to warmed breezes
doing hands free massage

In the background, children’s summer noises
Could I use this stolen time?
Maybe compose a rhyme?
But Mother Nature silenced me
It was her turn
Oh, Mama, do your thing
and continue slowly, please

Was it really that good?
Or do I somehow misremember?

This is, after all, November.

Time to hunker down
build a fire and await
the first snowfall

Gatherings for the holidays

Is it too early to decorate?

Will it be that great
or do I misanticipate?

This is, after all, still just November.


DRK
6/11/11

    NOVEMBER REVISITED

Today’s array
of browns and grays
rouses memories
of teenage hunting days -- 
a few pheasants in the weeds,
but mostly cottontails
darting through the brush.
And all the while my buddies and I
harbored dreams of
something WILD.

Above in V’s
ducks and geese took their November leaves --
to exchange icing ponds and chilling air
for exotic who-knows-wheres.
They traveled fast
they traveled high,
like hell-bent SSTs.
We could but stare --
their reach, so far beyond our ken
or youthful hunting expertise.

But any day that we were there,
eager for what came our way,
trophies were bagged,
dragged home and magnified
in the stories we shaped
and would recall.

November, the perfect loom
to weave warp against woof,

imagination and a zest for living,
against autumns coarser fibers.


DRK
6/11/10