At Last Report
At last report
I’ve seen the
northern lights
and buckeyes
abloom, poppies
strewn across
landscapes bright.
As a last resort,
I’ve heard your
name carried loft
on evening breeze
constituting romance
as if stung by bees.
You filial devotions
paternal admonitions
are stirred in the mix
fox, coyote, Momoy redux
Marching toward
the solstice, quickness
fills your veins with
bee and hornet refrains.
Summers cavort
across time’s landscapes
your ape’s brain filled
with gapes and japes.
Polkas parade and
tarantella dancers
rejoice at the sound
of the skylark’s voice.
You wonder at what
you’ve heard and you
ponder remembrances
of songs no longer sung
You await now until
the last bell is rung.
-----Jack Oakes 6/13/08
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