pewter-gray sky

pewter-gray sky

with peculiar sheen but little brightness

heavy with darkened clouds thick

without puff or soft, curved margins

bringing rain soft and incessant

as though all the sky were doomed

to precipitation evermore

and no individual living being

would know again the glory of sunshine

roar

low roar of passengers scurrying

to individual gates to catch their train

huge roar of fear and panic at news

of sabotage of tracks

low roar of massed people

simply talking among themselves

huge roar of approval by fans

of world-class athletes performing

what seems humanly impossible

low roar of crowds finding food, shelter

huge roar of behind-the-scenes

work to provide

(im)patient

i am an impatient patient

but the threat of long COVID is enough

to keep me cowering in my home grateful not to be infecting anyone else

but stunned by how slowly i think

so, my writing has come nearly

to a halt and i am watching old movies

as though they were worth all that time

frightened

frightened when my arms

were too heavy to lift

and i could not raise my legs

up onto the bed with the rest of me

i could only think i ‘d had a stroke

but it was merely depleted potassium

from days of COVID

help from firefighters

and hospital rehydration plus

enormous potassium pills

and i’m home again

chipper, and ornery

welcome home

worn out but so grateful

to view a bit of central Europe

to laugh and enjoy the company

of three generations of loving family

together for a week in Germany

Austria and Hungary

Thank You, Lord

docked between two cities

docked between two cities

long separated by surging Danube

now vibrantly one joined by bridges

joyously lighted for Budapest’s

summer evening boat traffic

incredulity

best, perhaps, to take everything

you hear or read as fiction

until proven otherwise

like the tourist tale from the cathedral

with the organ pipes suspended

from the ceiling where it is said

that the organist dons repelling gear

and is hoisted up to play suspended

among the pipes

in suspension

walls centuries old and unable to stand

the added weight of the hundreds

upon hundreds of pipes of cathedral’s organ rendered the instrument mute

for the pipes must hang

and hang they do

suspended from the ceiling

ingenious solution but so high up

few of us even noticed

the suspension apparatus

river locks

the Viking boat built to fit just under

the river bridges and only wide enough

to come within inches of the walls

of the locks

we are in one now with rough cement

less than a foot from my window

and occasionally caressing gently

the bumper at the edge of the side

in some locks, we come alongside

another vessel, often another tourister

but once settled and gates adjusted

it startles me how quickly the volume

of water needed pours in, or in our case,

pours out and we ease downward

to the river level downstream

how efficient, how clever, how maximized have the engineers of lock

and boat made our stair-stepping

where once muscular men carried

their canoes around rapids and falls

cobbled Regensburg

cobbled Regensburg with stones

lifted into walls by Roman soldiers

two thousand years ago

a stone bridge across surging Danube

with treacherous whirlpools

known as strudels

to service Rome’s northernmost fortress

near the Regen River became trade

route as few other wooden structures

or ferries gave crossing for centuries

prosperous salt and other merchants built square houses with square towers on their right, the higher, the more

ostentatious the display of wealth

but when hard times led to debt

courts lifted out a large stone to warn

would-be traders of that merchant’s debt and shame

above a hundred

the cycle or hoax of global warming

grows more intense, it seems, each year

triple digit temperatures for more

than a week now in what has been

the mild Pacific Northwest

as in many areas of the world

so few of those pale or reddened

dizzy, sick, miserable, dying

needing shade and water

and having little or none

are those whose focus on business profitability contributes

to those very tens of notches above

one hundred degrees Fahrenheit

who?

what would be a Baltimore Oriole

on the East Coast is scattering seed

and husks in my bird feeder

but here in Oregon, it must be

a hungry something else

new box

twice the contractor needed

to run to the hardware store

for the guts of an electrical outlet

as people had carried with them

their worn pieces to set into the box

when they slipped out the new

he had bought the new box but

strangely, their old, worn ones

did my outlet no good at all

shhhhh

tiptoe behind a clown

who truly does not know

you are there

you’ll find a man of foibles

and pain perhaps even deeper

than those he works

to make laugh

too many tears

too many tears

at first revealing, then relieving

but a story—or a life—loses buoyancy

when sodden with remorse or self-pity

so i’ve needed to edit out many

wet cheeks and glistening eyes

sobs, wails and weeping moments

in Exhalation, my newest novel

i believe it stands stronger now

grandpa Bob and the printer

Grandpa Bob and the printer

Writers in the Grove hosting children

awaiting a coloring book story of a hero

having their own name

excited, thrilled that the book was to be

of themselves

but the printer balked and only spat out

pages one by one when it would

we had the children color extra pages

but the wait weighed longer and longer

poor Bob ‘Grandpa’ Kratz had worked

many hard weeks to set up the event

how he hated to disappoint those kids

performances

debate performance criticized

for stammering pauses

but little said about the opponent’s

bullying accusation of causing WWIII

why are lies cause for celebration

rather than the basis for suit for libel ?

down that path

sadness overwhelms, lying down

under the weight of chaos

of knowing that without foundation

of adherence to respect and truth

with the inability to communicate

let alone trust

with the acceptance

of ‘alternative facts’ and unsubstantiated accusations

there will be no security of self

yet we rush to go down that path

though we learned where it takes us

only eighty years ago

twisting stripes

poor clown, reduced to attacking only

with inuendo, accusations and raw lies,

exposes Bluffo as the shell he has made

of himself—a common bully without

substance or integrity so all his gains

are but pain to the growing numbers

of people who have not yet realized

what they have lost by giving up

their own self-worth to admire his ‘strength’

our stars and stripes twist toward

swastikas

taking flight

grandniece will fly tomorrow

to her husband in Turkey

we can only send our love

and prayers for joy

in such a new adventure