under the maple tree
the biggest tree in my backyard
sittin’ here on a Sunday mornin’
just me and my big Blue dog
we’ve been up since five
goin’ in and out of the house
and ‘round the block
on a pajama clad walk
coffee’s long gone
tryin’ to kept him quiet
while the rest of my family sleeps
even that cat
so here I sit
under the maple tree
in a quiet backyard
except for bird sound
and an occasional woof
shhhhh
people are sleeping
their windows are open
yet here we sit
two awake beings
under the maple tree
on a Sunday morn
time to go in
again

gray clouds gather
a few raindrops fall
there is a storm rolling in
blackbirds chirping
flocking in treetops
warning the dog and woman
in the yard below
maple tree flowering
redbud budding
burr oak tree barely leafing
old nest from last season
still resting in high up branches
breeze is cooler
blowing faster
chimes chime louder
there is a storm rolling in
it’s going to cut loose
soon

breakfast food analogy

I am toast
and not the pretty golden brown
evenly buttered kind
I’m stuck in the toaster
charred beyond recognition
crumbling burned black toast
evidently when my day starts at 4:30a.m.
by 6-something in the evening I am done
kaput
not worth much
by almost 7:30p.m. I am toast
actually those crumbs in the bottom if the toaster
I may be in bed before the children tonight
unless I fall asleep on the backyard chaise
where I have the dogs leash under a leg
to hold it in place
and I am stretched out fairly flat
my eye lids at half mast
there are dishes
clean ones to unload
pots and pans to do by hand
laundry to fold
more to move around
from one machine to another
but something’s burning
smoldering
crumbling
beyond done
crumble
crumble
ick
charred to bits
toast