Interstate 80 stretches like a spine across the commonwealth’s equator. Just a few degrees north of Pennsylvania’s actual axis of latitudinal symmetry, the bituminous byway traces parallel paths of two- or three-lane highway across the white ash graveyards of our westerly neighbor. As is now standard across the federal interstate highway system, I-80’s exit numbersContinue reading “The Former Things That Have Passed Away”
Behold! The unheralded life arc of a scrap of iron ore. No pomp, no circumstance. Handled by a hundred human hands, regarded by none.
Ode to the summer roadside’s unassuming garland
In the last dozen years we have been on the receiving end of any number of solicitations to move away from New Jersey. Many of them are lighthearted and congenial daydreams from the lips of sincere friends. We reply to these with an earnest measure of flattery, affirmation, and/or acknowledgment.
An Ode to the Sassafras
Tomato plants in late June
don’t smell like anything
tomato plants in late June.
Singular unto themselves
their redolence subsists…
The first Sunday evening in June
is like that famous score by John Cage
I was raking in the backyard last night at twilight, and the corner of my eye caught what I took to be a firefly…
A swarm of swallows trims the grass One dive bomb at a time, And the bumblebee checks all the flowers To find a pair that rhyme. Every wingéd beast and insect Gaily, madly, gads about, But the red-winged blackbird bobs along Like his shrew has turned him out. May 1, 2020
It’s the morning after the gala, and even the Cherry admits she overdid it this year. The Lilac’s purple litter has fallen and faded, and the King’s crown lies in state. The canopy’s canvas is bourgeoning with green— twenty different shades of verdancy gleam in fourteen splendored hours of sunlight. The blushing boughs of AprilContinue reading “The Greens of May”