Weather – KensView

Quarter Past

Billowing clouds snuff sun’s last flare;
Day breeze yields to twilight’s fury
Trees shake and swirling leaves fly,
Rain driving, pouring hard and cold.
Towns and farms bolt gates and doors
As children whimper, grownups shudder.
Heralded by heaven’s light, thunder’s crash,
Doc Time is called to dutiful round.
Harbinger of destiny, he practices his craft
On cobblestones made of bone and sweets.
Cries rise more piercing than the wolf’s,
Joy more exultant than a heavenly choir.
Old Aaron parted around midnight;
Reminiscence was born at quarter past.

The Watch

At night, I climb the lone path to the promontory
The forest ends, the sky opens
I glance out, my spirit soars
Sea waves wash the feet of wind-combed cliffs

With moonlight for guide
Wisps of predawn mist shuttle across the horizon
The goddess of night seductively beckons
Her company cordially declined

She ascends to her heavenly lair
The black veil lifted
The passage for Apollo’s golden chariot is again assured
Vigilant I stand awaiting news from the far-off east.

Cloud-wiped Moon

Road turns to path
Passing empty paddies and sleepy huts
Turn, twist_,I pierce bamboo thickets
The valley heat diminishes
I touch the cloud-wiped moon.

Wind sweeps through green glade
A pagoda clings to mountainside
A happy scent of apple blossom
In the distance a soft figure stands
I touch the cloud-wiped moon.

Blue Tableau

Blue tableau triangled boats
Waves wafting balmy beach
Basking bathers gather there
Summer is already here

As the season starts out
Full of play and promise
The sun warmly beckons
But not for everyone

Scanning the sharp horizon
I come at last to realize
Our fairy tale of amour
Has drifted out to sea

Blue and bluer,
More clearly than ever
I look back on what is lost
Missing you more and more

Great love, least I thought
Bigger than you and me
You were sincere, I know
But doubt betrayed your heart

I reflect again and again
Now the ship has sailed
What more in this world
Could this fool have done?

City Note

In drizzling rain, ten patient people form a queue
One bus passes, then another: “Sorry, no room here”
With torrents downfall, six umbrellas blossom
The bus to city’s center arrives
Twenty people now converge on one point
Ordered rank turns into San Juan Hill
Collecting bones and baggage twelve of us board
Bell rings, “I’m descending.” “Excuse me.”
There goes today’s shoeshine
A playful driver, a screeching halt
A hundred people swing like hogs at slaughter
In a seat below, two children sit
They smile, day brightens, skyline opens.

Parisian Pretzel

One day I left my boarding house
on the Rue de Vaugirard
to get air in the light autumn rain.

Armed with umbrella, beret,
Scarf, and overcoat,
I strolled the arrondissement.

Soon a Parisian pretzel greeted me,
autos pressing forward, from every side,
almost willfully blocking the flow.

I then spotted a safety vehicle
stranded in the jammed melee
blaring, flashing in the misty eve.

Shouts and curses of course erupted
no driver yielding even a centimeter
to let the conveyance by.

After smirking at the hubbub,
I squeezed by to continue my route
covering several blocks in a half hour.

But later when I turned back,
I saw to my surprise that the
ambulance had hardly budged a meter.

Tout de suite I looked to thank heaven
wondering to myself, what if
I was the one there inside?

The Cooling Box

I have to admit that it was a gift
that rescued us from Chicago’s
day after day, night after night
pitiless summer heat and humidity,
the endless series of restless sleep,
and dozens of sweat-soaked shirts.

My parents were very proud
that they could afford that box,
noisy and rattling as it was,
placed in the dining room window
the stream of cool, dry, restful comfort,
it even relieved mold and allergies.

But I had just sat in science class
on our costs of making energy;
so as I left home the next day
I saw the box that gave us pleasure
when multiplied millions of times
would sure lead to a future of hurt.

A Dime

We passed him along Clark Street,
The family out for an evening treat.
He sat huddled against a wall
Bracing against the chill of fall.
In a ragged suit, with one lame foot,
He was covered in grime and soot.
When I paused to look, eyes fixed,
My stomach began to twitch.
“Hey, what’s wrong with that man?
The sign says, ‘I need a hand.’”
“Now, don’t you get too near.
It’s nothing to worry about, dear.”
“But, it’s damp and cold today.
We can’t just walk away!”
“Okay, Kenny here take a dime.
But, quick, we’ve got little time.”
As I rushed back, coin in hand,
A smile broke out on the man.
Not enough, and only a start,
This enkindled a very young heart.