Two Unrelated Short Poems from Maine

                         A Cold Night

A warm blanket

pulled tight to my chin

is comfort enough

when the winds blow cold

through a midnight storm. 

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                  Drivin’ Upta Greenville

Drivin’ upta Greenville,

Moosehead Lake, up the road

a-piece, Route 6 through

Shirley, from where I live;

Vacationland, Pis-county’s

wild town, Greenville is,

a treat just to get they-uh.

Two Short Related Poems about Walking

Walking

The problem with walking the long walk

is one must ration their willpower

for the even longer walk back home. 

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Into Posterity 

A long walk after dinner,

pulled along by the dogs

and my thoughts, ruminating

 lines of poetry to be remembered

and set down, pen in hand

or keyboard clicks, into posterity.

The Fox

What she is, is a scavenger,

scavenging my yard in the dark

hours before dawn, searching

the snowbank for a mouse scurrying

between the snow and the warm wall

of my home, survival, this series of tunnels,

a safe escape for his daily bread

in short supply this winter. Or perhaps

she’s searching the snow below my feeder,

bird seed scattered, dropped, free

for the taking, anything to nurture her

and the kits sheltered nearby, hidden.

The squirrels, too, scavenged, fewer

in my yard these past weeks; maybe

the lucky ones are the ones I caught

and took away, perhaps, though, not

so lucky, in this daily fight for survival,

as we all must, daily, as we all do. 

Vulnerable

She reminds us daily of the un-expectancy of change,

changes out of our control, well beyond our limitations,

beyond even our sense of expectation, of continuity

and routine, things what we wish them to be, remember them

to be; so it is with nature, wild and untamed, constantly

changing, disrupting our lives and surprising us,

caught off-guard and unprepared, unable, perhaps,

to adapt, man’s greatest burden, his one vulnerability.