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just
····to be sure—the apple-drunk hornet stings me
········again
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····to be sure—the apple-drunk hornet stings me
········again
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262 September 20th 2017 | bottlecap
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Category Archives: Poetry By:
September 19th 2017
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trees
····in autumn—colors dissolving in the pond’s
········wind
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····in autumn—colors dissolving in the pond’s
········wind
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·i
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261 September 19th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 18th 2017
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leaves
····scraping the pavement—an autumn heat-
········wave
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····scraping the pavement—an autumn heat-
········wave
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A summer’s heat and humidity has returned to Vermont while three cords of firewood need to be stacked in the dooryard. Can’t imagine needing it. Even the snow shovel’s colors, leaning where I left since the snow melt, fades in September’s heat.
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260 September 18th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 17th 2017
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fat
····as pumpkins before the first frost—wolf
········spiders
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····as pumpkins before the first frost—wolf
········spiders
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September’s leaves are dry and brittle, not the colors of late summer. They clatter against the other leaves as they fall, like the bones of moths, spiders and dragonflies. So much else falls with the leaves.
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259 September 17th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 16th 2017
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too
····humid to sleep—a cat on the old car’s
········hood
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····humid to sleep—a cat on the old car’s
········hood
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When I wrote the post’s date, I typed 1978. I have no idea where that came from. All kinds of memories surfaced. I remember always writing, in pencil, the date on top of my elementary school papers, and remember writing 1978. I remember the new kid in school who single-handedly killed bell-bottomed jeans by wearing white baggy pants. All the boys ridiculed him but did 180ºs when they saw the girls ogling him—the rebel, the new kid, a boxer, fleet, and funny. There were only four channels to watch when I got home: NBC, ABC, CBS and PBS. I always watched The Amazing Spiderman, Gilligan’s Island, or Bewitched on the weekdays. When I was younger I sat on my grandfather’s lap and watched westerns like Bonanza and Gunsmoke. My memories of the 70’s are loud cars, terrifying teen-aged boys with long hair and women with hair to their waists and longer nails. Humid nights. Moths trafficking in the air above the night-lit football fields. Highschool cheerleaders. Sweating middle-aged men smoking cigarettes as they watched the young girls. All good memories.
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258 September 16th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 15th 2017
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pools
····on the windowsill—the apple pie’s timer
········rings
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····on the windowsill—the apple pie’s timer
········rings
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257 September 15th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 14th 2017
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dark-
····ening in September’s moonrise—a cricket’s
········cries
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····ening in September’s moonrise—a cricket’s
········cries
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·
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256 September 14th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 13th 2017
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melting
····frost—the snow shovel’s morning glory still not
········done
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····frost—the snow shovel’s morning glory still not
········done
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255 September 13th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 12th 2017
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pooling
····in a tractor tire’s ruts—autumn’s dry
········flowers
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····in a tractor tire’s ruts—autumn’s dry
········flowers
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254 September 12th 2017 | bottlecap
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September 11th 2017
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first
····a little girl kicking leaves and afterward—
········wind
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····a little girl kicking leaves and afterward—
········wind
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253 September 11th 2017 | bottlecap
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