Drive Time Passing

At camp, distance is measured in drive time,

not miles spinning an odometer’s numbers clicking forward,

but minutes’ and hours’ conveyance, time behind the wheel;

even across the lake, the distant shore visible, so close

from my front porch, sitting here as I often do, reflecting

on this short span of time and water separating us,

me from them, them from me, across the rippling waters

of Hebron, wind tossed, that shore is twenty minutes away,

or more, a drive towards town, a mere dot on a map,

and up the hill, rumbling, rocks and dirt sprayed

under my tires, and around the lake’s eastern shore

to the other side on these slow country roads,

roads going nowhere and roads going everywhere;

even the daily chores, groceries to buy, screws and nails,

repairs required, require a distance traveled,

travel checked by minutes slipping by;

and good coffee, not my own, and a baker’s treat

to myself, fresh donuts made, are but moments passing

into quarter hours and halves, hands ticking

on a clock measuring time, measuring distance,

here at camp, the distance between here and there,

from where I am to where I’m headed:

life measured in time passing, not the miles we go.

A Rainy Day in April is Still A Rainy Day

It’s an April Showers kind of day,

a light rain falling, cold and damp,

“rain we need,” we’ll claim to stem our angst,

then sigh and dig deeper

into ourselves, not caring

about the promise of May flowers,

or even the summer months ahead,

too far ahead still, and too much to do

to get ready, too much that can’t get done

on a rainy day in April when the spirits

are dampened, damp and cold and eager

for the warmth of the days ahead.

The Fine Art of Shuffling Cards

The fine art of shuffling cards is never easy, clumsily splitting the deck, roughly equal, roughly held in two hands, thumbs on top, third and fourth fingers supporting the bottoms, index fingers’ knuckles behind to arc, to bend, to support the cards, pinkies tucked out of the way, to watch, to observe, too small to help, too small to play. And one by one, roughly, as much as possible, the cards are released, alternately, one side, then the other, to fall, to flutter, to mesh together, interwoven, returning to a single deck, fifty-two reunited into one again, to divide and mesh again, interwoven, over and over, the cards randomly ordered, reordered, out of order, randomly placed and replaced, again and again … let the game begin with random cards dealt, face down, thrown down, player to player in turn, or slapped down one by one, a thumb dragging a card to brush against the one below, next in line, and pinched, snapping it to rest, piled up, readied, solitaire’s last card face up, turned up, a Heart, a Club, a Diamond, a Spade, an Ace or King or Jack or Queen, red and black, numbered cards randomly placed, randomly ordered, out of order, reordered, random … let the game begin, a game begun in random shuffling, random dealing, brushed and slapped down with a snap, turned and readied, face up, face down, like we who play this game, each day shuffled and dealt, to win or lose, random … let the game begin!

The Water Roils Below

In springtime’s thaw,

when winter’s cold returns, hanging on,

and the ice is long on the lake,

the water roils below,

a deep grumble rumbling up, anxious,

like us, to shed its frozen garb

and run free.

Some Things to Remember in Winter

1.

Crystal coated, encased

in a frozen drop,

brilliant as a diamond,

carbon pressed, this bud,

ready now to bloom and blossom

in a golden sun rising, an azure sky

of an April morning.

2.

It’s silent, that brook

stopped up, held fast with cold and ice,

quietly waiting, awaiting

spring’s thaw and melt,

to set free again the music

of a mountain stream

held back and frozen, now released.

3.

They lie barren, stark and naked,

the bark and bite of winter trees,

a dormant death, random and unordered

chaos of trunk and limb stretching

into an endless maze of black on white,

echoing my fears, fears gone now in a splash

of green exploding on a quiet day in May.