Florida falls into autumn
the way you grow old:
with a sense of change you
may not see in the weather
or on your face in the mirror
or in the falling of leaves
or ripening fruit,
but you feel in an easing,
a thinning of the still hot air,
a pause in continuity.
The odor of this morning is different.
Something is changing.
Black vultures in a tree.
An osprey on white wings
screams down at us.
Enjoyed this very much.
ReplyDelete"a thinning of the still hot air,
a pause in continuity."
And then, after the pause, we go on.*
*Waiting for Godot:,"'We must go on.'"
the Osprey eagles
ReplyDeleteas they rest on my arm,
works of art
signifying freedom
Did you write that. Capt?
ReplyDeleteJawohl. One of my many bad habits.
DeleteI'm glad FreeThinke, with his odes about the decline of a white paradise America due to allowing minority rights, is not the only poet. keep it up...
DeleteThanks, I've been doing it for many years and odds are, being 70, I remember back decades before he does. Other than the cars and music, it was no paradise. But as I said, you can't win an argument with an idiot or a nut job so why bother?
DeleteLike so much of the loserati, he's just trying to seem important.
"Forever Autumn" by Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues, part of a delightful musical treatment of "War of the Worlds"
ReplyDelete"The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you're not here
I WATCH the birds fly south across the Autumn sky
And one by one they DISAPPEAR
I wish that I was flying WITH them
Now you're not here
Like the SUN through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on the breeze you blew away
Through Autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way
You always loved this time of year
Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now
Cause you're not here ....
Like the SUN through the trees you came to love me
Like a leaf on the breeze you blew away
A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes
As if to hide a lonely tear
My life will be forever Autumn
Cause you're not here ...
Cause you're not here ...
Cause you're not here ..."
Unfortunately, I don't have any poetic talent, so I defer to the Cap'n and Hayward. The song can be heard here
Those birds fly south and wind up here or pass through headed to Mexico or South America. Fall colors don't happen even though the default position for Western culture is that we all live near the 40th parallel. We just can't seem to get away from it. Christmas is ridiculous in the way we can't separate it from Norse and northern culture, with plastic icicles and fake snowmen even though it's 80 degrees and everything is blooming.
ReplyDeleteI guess I wouldn't mind seeing those dramatic fall colors, but YouTube is good enough for me. Two or three cold mornings happen every winter and I'll put on one of my old leather jackets and feel nostalgic until noon by which time it's 76, but autumn, such as it is, is a time of relief and opening windows.
No sympathies from me, Captain Fogg.
ReplyDeleteFor you, seventy years is not enough
But for me, it’s unheard of.
Consider the life of this hapless hog:
All existence but no essence,
From stork to pork is our quintessence.
We go from piglets to cutlets for a meal
Everything but the squeal has grill appeal.
Why must my destiny be dead between bread?
Enjoy your glass of Châteauneuf-du-Pape.
Remember: I’ve lived this life eating slop,
Never bred and overfed.
Everyone born will eventually die
And go to the big sty in the sky.
Please don’t think of me as rasher,
But next time, please, keep kosher!
Funny! I'm tempted to cast pearls. . .
ReplyDeleteCaptain, I believe FreeThinke is 73. Of course I suppose he could be lying. But I don't believe so.
ReplyDeleteThat old? Might imagine "FreeThinke" as someone who remembers some halcyon, pre- civil rights "utopia" (of his, anyway), and he has watched over these decades as those he considers to be genetically inferior by race have gained civil rights. Hence his "poetry" about how everything is going to hell because whites aren't 100% in control any more.
DeleteIf he is gunning for the position of Poet Laureate of the Neo-Confederacy, this all might make sense...
I'm sure he has a picture of old Bobbie Lee in his bedroom, but our youth was always a golden age. That some people are nostalgic for the 80's which I see as the nadir of just about everything is hilarious. I'm afraid there never was a golden age - just an age where we were too young to worry.
DeleteSure, I wish I could go back to the 50's, but I'm sure after a short time I'd be angry as hell and I'd buy a new '57 Corvette and come back to the future. Maybe ten of them.
The Cap'n said: "Sure, I wish I could go back to the 50's, but I'm sure after a short time I'd be angry as hell and I'd buy a new '57 Corvette and come back to the future. Maybe ten of them. "
DeleteA golden age for many, often for glaringly different reasons. I've discussed this with BB-Idaho on occasion. The era of much higher taxes... and a rampaging Military Industrial Complex with huge bases being expanded all over the world. An era of strong labor unions... and also no civil rights, equal rights, anything of the sort.
Oh the songs Glenn Miller played - songs that made the hit parade -- those were the days!
DeleteOne feature of any "good old days" is that we were young. I remember my father bitching about the 90% tax bracket, but it seems that it might have been easier to get into the upper middle class from elsewhere than it is today. That middle class was explosive and now it's shrinking, the relatively low taxation notwithstanding. What are the real factors behind that? Probably more than or other than we want to attribute.
But I loved the music, each year's new crop of cars was wonderful I didn't have bills to pay and I was shielded from the worst America had to offer then. What the hell else does a ten year old care about? How much time does he invest in worrying about the repression, the witch hunts, and all the ugly stuff every age hides behind sanctimonious smokescreens?
Mr Stinkie probably feels the same way for similar reasons. He remembers life as being great when he was too young to see reality as it was and so it was the good old days. I remember spending hours with maps drawing circles around Chicago and calculating the chance of survival when the bombs fell. Tootie Fruitie, o Rootie!
Once again, we see things not as they were but as we were.
Is that IQ or years?
ReplyDeleteThe sane man disappears and is nowhere when he enters into rivalry with the madman.
-Plato-