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The Wild Lover

Bitter cold today and a
temperature of twelve degrees
(feels like one) sends a thrill
of excitement through me.
So extreme!  So grand!
I live in a place where we must
bend to the many moods of Nature
where wild variance is the norm 
rather like life with a tempestuous 
lover offering up her voluptuous
Self no holds barred no apology 
her whole amazing singularity
expressed without qualm 
nothing hidden no emotion 
repressed tamped down 
no wild truths covered with pat
phrase innuendo or artifice. 
She says simply Here I am.
Love me or not.

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Resolutions

I resolve the usual improvements 
to self and life once again nothing
earth-shattering in my striving:
the desire to be a nicer person,
pay my bills on time, achieve
a lifelong goal never much altered
one year to the next.  Not
to give up smoking nor to 
take it up nor to stop cursing
go back to church
visit the sick and elderly
eschew the eating of beef.
But I do make a list as
silly as that might seem 
and in its dull serious
repetition is written a failure
of sorts that I resolve to accept.
And overcome.  Next year. 

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Signs

It seems a tender little bit of something
to begin a new year on a Sunday
the first day of any week 
in any month of any old year 
a small symmetry that might 
bode well as I like to think
plus my two dogs lie here lovingly
however uncharacteristically 
legs over legs entwined suggesting
if I care to read it so (& let me say 
right here that I do)
a quantity of forbearance 
if not love not to mention that this day
is as sunlit and radiant as any
spring or summer day suggesting
grace and light to come
and in addition the wind does blow
something fierce meaning
(of course) that
ships’ sails will fill and billow
truths will be declared
angels sing in full chorus
as God whispers 
recondite secrets to the trees.  
Ah yes.  This wind that sun
those dogs this Sunday
all signs point 
to an extraordinary year.

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Twenty Twelve

A year ends another begins
and I am reluctant a bit sad
to see this one go loving odd
numbers as I do and in addition
eleven seeming a magical number
a prime and hinting at infinity.
Twelve, a dozen, I suppose has
merit insofar as being sturdy
ordered common a dozen of 
these two dozen of those please
half a dozen of that will do
six of one half a dozen of the other
the clock strikes twelve
noon twelve midnight

twelve apostles twelve months
in a year both this one and the next
oh I’ll learn to love it for itself
Im sure, its reliable balanced
sturdy well-ordered protean self.  

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Penultimate

I have waited all year long
to name this the penultimate day
of the year for who (not I) can 
resist that marvelous word 
given the chance to use it 
since to be spoken written 
down typed used in a phrase 
is the be-all end-all of a word 
itself otherwise lying flat
on some dictionary page, heart
thrumming in anticipation
someday to be thoughtfully 
placed into a sentence not to mention
a poem! and murmuring with profound
incredulity Look!  Oh my just look
where I am! and to know in its 
bones it is absolutely the most perfect 
word for that particular sentence.
Oh the pure joy!  
But imagine if you will
the heartless glib erasing 
the painful scratching through or
worst of injuries the absolute
cold horror of the delete key backing
over removing one letter at a time
leaving the tiny word pen and finally
nothing at all as some other 
clearly inferior word is substituted
when everyone knows there is no 
other single word that adequately
fills the shoes of penultimate.

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December 28, 2011

Deep in the woods a swing hangs from 
a large tree fallen across a deep cut of creek.
This is here for all to use.  Please be safe.  Be respectful,
written across the board that is its seat.
A mysterious elf’s gone to a lot of trouble
to delight others, walked crawled or capered
to the center of that old tree
risking life at least limb 
from falling onto a jumble 
of big mossy rocks below
to do it, to do this for All.
Oh goodhearted Puck, I praise you!
Wonderful hero of mirth, 
I pile blessings upon your head!
My own concocts nothing marvelous 
to keep the karmic balance
but I vow to do so somehow 
someplace sometime.
This challenge is too
marvelous to pass up.

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December 27, 2011

The luxury of time
the plenitude of moments 
plump, ripe, complete
I blindly believe left to me
even this one this very now
swiftly flowing past and followed 
directly by another holds 
the possibility, no
the probability 
each and every 
as I tend to imagine 
of brilliance 
not to mention
magic. 

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December 26, 2011

My son and I wandering in the woods
in the cold winter morning observing
the world anticipating the appearance
of an owl a hawk a heron saw
instead a pretty little bluebird above
our shoulders almost as if on them
and zippity doo dah we could have sung
had we thought of it which we didn’t
but even so my oh my it was a wonderful day
and everything was is and has ever since been
satisfactual and I have no reason
to expect that to change anytime soon.

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December 25, 2011

Cole and Oliver two sons of three
two June babies now men
here with me for Christmas
and I breathe deeply of the contentment 
that is my grown sons relaxed, easy
merry with me and each other during these
few days that we have together each year.