don't talk,
you'll spoil it—
this version of me
I've been trying
to see as you—
don't say anything,
let's enjoy
our basic witch status,
excel in the practice
of angles—
let's remain
unsolvable
assistants in the craft.
sleights of hand,
close-up magic, all of it—
disappears
without
audience
participation.
Winter has slowed you down on snowy tracks,
unhappy you sound, you caught a cold from clouds
chugging through big forests and mountains;
it's a short distance to the city, but it seems miles!
Puff and whistle, long train...
the going was very easy, the coming is hard;
the scene is magical similar to a greeting card!
Puff and whistle, long train...
hear the brand new fiddle
that young Jack plays
while moms softly cradle
babies to hush their cries!
Sometimes you wish you were a tree,
not doing this kind of boring work...
standing in a forest near a brook;
would this give you sadness or glee?
Puff and whistle, long train,
soon snow will turn into rain;
clearer your vision will be,
happier your mood can be!
Puff and whistle, long train...
inside there's song and dancing,
speed up and share the feeling!
In the town I live, there's no snow...
no sleights sliding downhill;
no pine trees white and tall...
only a sad moon with a faint glow!
I like to ride in your long train,
watch millions of snowflakes fall
rather than stare at a decked hall...
I will tell all where I have been!
Written on 12/26/ 2016
Photo # 3
Instead of fluffy snow, it's steady rain;
cherry trees have blossomed in Brooklyn,
so did the tulips along Sheepshead bay...
even New Jersey has seen Nature in play!
Unlikely last year when all was white, this Christmas
won't have any snow to make everything bright;
children's eyes will sadly gaze from adorned windows
and wish for millions of snowflakes near midnight!
And there is a greater fear that disappointment may linger:
might Santa decline all requests and dash their hopes;
Santa comes from a very cold place and warm wheather
scares him, afraid to ride his sleight on those snowless slopes!
The Northwest is being hit by heavy snow for several days,
what a thrill for those kids riding their sleights and having much fun;
the Northeast is experiencing a bizarre reversal of seasons...
and that makes every kid very sad without snow: wouldn't Peter Pan?
Three silly kids from beautiful Montana
thought there was snow in North Carolina,
and sliding down the fluffy slopes.....
they kept going for months 'till they hit rocks!
They were shocked and realized that the further
down they went, the less snow they found....
" We haven't seen an inch of snow and it's December! "
They exclaimed seeing grass still on dry ground.
Every December tons of snow fell in picturesque Brockway,
mountains' slopes plunged into lovely pristine rivers;
it was fun coming down, splash in the cold water and play,
then swim across with frozen toes and clogged ears.
They recalled riding fast sleights and humming carols, but in Andrews
there was no Christmas magic to hold them in useless wait;
bundled up as northern folks, they waited for snowflakes, not blues...
one of them complained, " No blue Christmas this year, let's split! "
Three silly kids from beautiful Montana
thought there was snow in North Carolina,
and disappointed as kids on Christmas Eve, they suddenly decided to leave;
New Year's Day was a week away and their unhappy hearts started to grieve!
Experience is not the best of teachers
The sharpest blades
The finest men and women
Have all been tempered with care
As have the tools and sleights of working class
Responsibility is the best of teachers
And the harshest disciplinarian
If ignored.
In all occupations and walks of life.
Freedom is a well learned reward
That lives with it
Class so easily seen in
The responsible is
Nobility
I love my freedom and am grateful to those who fought that I may have it
I am more thankful to they who taught me responsibility is tied to it
The talk I hear is crazy talk,
Peppered with imagined sleights;
The words I see are crazy words,
Bloody tomes in blackest nights;
The points I get are crazy points,
Fact and fiction not divorced;
The fear I sense is crazy fear,
Fuelled by paranoiac force.
The love you give is crazy love,
Compulsive with a twisted streak;
The dreams you have are crazy dreams,
Obsessively surreal and bleak.
Your world is such a crazy place,
Warped and blurred and plagued with doubt,
I may be mad, but not that mad,
And so, my dear, I'm getting out.