—January 16, 2021—
A poem for u Who comes down the chute Wearing a pair of fine boots On the right and left foot Let me compute Is it the teller that plays the lute Or the handler preparing fresh newt I know, must be the fellow that shoots Or the sweeper who toots The planter of roots Perhaps not the mute Nor the howler who hoots Neither the keepers of Ut Or the owner of hoots No, I am sure he understands “Gut” Knows where gifts to put And perhaps secretly drinks vermouth How Cute. Woot!
—February 12, 2021—
氣 青鼎天千巾彷山海 雲梯七層雪白漂形 輪風刷過布帆起飛
—February 14, 2021—
Tea A broad horizontal line then a downward stroke, Capitalized or if not then contains a slight upward poke At the intersection of the orthogonal lines. A rightward curvature near the bottom also makes for fine Penmanship. Some writers sweep with a slant here Or circle around there. Enjoyed with a sip of t.
—February 15, 2021—
丟牌 行到門前 取宿 問肉食 黑鍋滿滿 『過橋麵』一碗 色彩繽紛 暖入夜
—February 16, 2021—
/‘/ Night time on the road, we’re stuck Behind a black ford truck. The mountain roads are shaped (curved/windy) In the form of an S. Roads paved as if taped To the incline, makes for treacherous going. Viewpoints along the way open a showing Of the lighted cities in the valleys down below. Then the pace quickens and the traffic flows, We enter a tunnel carved into the rock Two lanes, illuminated, chock Full of vehicles, that are simply trying to reach home.’
—February 17, 2021—
A Small World A flying goshawk, a flying beetle, go many more lengths, than the tinier weevil. Above the ground house of a sleeping mouse. Two luminescent beetles begin a deadly battle on a log causing such a microcosmic rattle As to awaken even the hawk’s nest High in the treetops where the chicks rest. As the sun goes below the horizon, fireflies emerge and the night quickens Colder it becomes and a mist thickens. The mouse awakes Fearful of the snake That is slithering on by. Once the coast is clear the little mouse goes up to try to forage for food for nourish and storage. Every day with a little more than the last courage.
—February 18, 2021—
A Daisy To A little white dog and a little yellow bird a famous duo, not sure if you’ve heard. Have numerous stories to tell and share, That will have you bawl over or scratch pull yank your hair. It’s stories of the walks of life from love to strife, with man’s best friend, and man’s friend’s best friend. I hope to keep watching, and not yet say “The End.”