November Woods

A tall thin man moves through
November woods. Near but not quite.
Watching or not?
Grey hair and a dirty nylon jacket.
His small dog barks me alert.

 

On the narrow road a pickup truck passes
slowly. No smile just a frown and nod.
There’s frost in the shadows and I’ve learned
that walkers aren’t always welcome here.

 

Behind me in the distance, two hunters.
A rotting mound of brown apples, deer bait
at my feet. A partridge drums.
The voice of one black crow as I stand listening.

 

Eyes open and close

Eyes open and close in the darkness

just before I start to toss, turn and get up again

play solitaire and go back to bed.

 

Sitting in the early evening, cat purring,

pale ale in a tall glass and a warm fire burning.

I’m afraid I have to write my life to see it.

Which is strange, sad and all too true.

 

Tomorrow morning

I’ll be briefed on two new projects

and a third in the afternoon.

Then I’ll walk the dog.

 

Later friends will come for dinner,

we’ll go to the Whitetail Tavern,

listen to Mississippi Heat

and dance til we’re exhausted.

 

Maybe I’ll decide my life is blessed,

but more likely, it will still need work.

 

 

Radiohead and the Kinettes

I met a guy last night in the mens washroom at the 5th Annual Kinettes Trivia Challenge. We had a three minute, intense conversation about music. He mentioned that his interests ranged from Pink Floyd to whatever was playing at any given moment. He loves music. Period. His team, which had cleaned up on the Sports category got creamed in Music. He couldn’t understand it. I said we did poorly as well, but I’m still stuck back at Pink Floyd. He suggested, quite passionately, that I check out Radiohead. The conversation continued into the crowded college gym. We ended our brief, heartfelt friendship near the beer line. He reminded me of the duck hunter I’d met earlier in the day who put his cellphone in his pocket as I approached. He waved at a couple of mallards flying over. They’re safe, he said. Oh how we laughed at his complete inability to shoot a duck. Not if his life depended on it. He just likes to get out.

Meanwhile at home on the computer I was carrying on a TED discussion with a woman from Italy and another from Milwaukee about destiny, coincidence and the nature of being.

This morning I was listening to Radiohead when the woman from Italy got back to me.