In Which I Peer Out At The Sky And Back On Us

We go forward and back, just looking out

Our windows or through telescopes and tools.

The Kepler probe has taught us more about

A thousand-light-year distant world we fools

Had thought we understood already; not

A bit like any planets we have here.

But thousand-year-old data's all we've got.

Around Hat-P-7b it's old news. Fear --

So slight but real -- grips me: I ask what if

The star, the planet, are still really there.

Just sixty-four years earlier, our stiff

Resolve to end a war led us to dare

Unleashing solar physics on Japan.

Will we still be here when some others scan?

In Which I Say Good-Bye To A Tall Old Friend

Taking Down Grandfather Cottonwood, originally uploaded by qatesiurade.

This afternoon, a tree is coming down
Beneath whose boughs my childhood swiftly passed.
I'm sure it's quite as old as my hometown,
This cottonwood. On av'rage these trees last
A hundred years, then die within their hearts
And slowly rot from inside out, then fall.
The neighbor's house would take the hit. So starts
An afternoon's work: best to cut and haul
The tree, in parts, away. Thus, soon, the sky
Above my parents' yard will miss a piece
Of long-accustomed scenery. Good-bye
Grandfather Cottonwood, good neighbor. Cease
This mourning now, though, Kate: there still is shade
Beneath the clones and saplings that he made

July 21, 1969 - And 2009

My eyes are ever drawn to the night sky.
Last Friday, Jupiter and sev'ral moons
Had me transfixed; I'd still be there, my eye
Pressed to a scope. Nights turn always to noons,
Though. Now today the world is looking back
To when our moon first felt a human step,
But some of us are also keeping track
Of Jupiter's black spot. I did not get
To see it Friday night; no black spot was
There to be seen back then. It might be so
That just ere that astronomer from Oz
Observed it that a comet struck a blow!
Meanwhile the men who first trod Luna's dust
Declare that now our job is Mars or bust.

Iran: Another Lump Sticking In My Throat

The nation I first learned to hate, at nine
Years old, when hostages were what I cared
About, is now in turmoil, with no sign
Of normalcy returning soon. I'm scared
For all the people who just sought to change
Their leadership and exercise their rights,
Now being shot and beaten if in range
Of government enforcers. Will these fights
And demonstrations end at all well? I
Am pessimistic. Ahmadinejad
Himself a hostage-taker, could defy
My expectations or could run roughshod
O'er hopes and dreams, as seems to be his plan.
His next steps will prove much about the man.

Who Busted Out A Time Machine When I Wasn't Looking?

A baby down in Oz has died because
Her neighborhood was seething with disease --
Not AIDS, Ebola, swine flu -- I must pause,
And scream before I go on; pardon, please.
'Twas whooping cough that killed this little girl:
Preventable since 1925!
She was too young for shots herself, but (HURL)
The neighbor kids are why she's not alive.
Their parents were convinced that a vaccine
Would be much worse than death on needless scales,
And so this bug broke out again. "Obscene"
Is not a strong 'nough word for these sad tales.
Autism is a horror, yes it's true,
But vaccines do not cause it, K? Thank you.

This Lump In My Throat Won't Go Away Anytime Soon

The boys in blue don't stay home on snow days,

Don't get to choose who they help out or why,

No matter attitude, abuse or praise,

The job is clear: whatever goes awry

Must be redressed, at risk of life or limb

If needed. Accident, attack or fire,

Domestic fight, escape, or murder grim,

The boys in blue must suck it up. Admire

Or hate them as you will, you'll still get help --

Or if you're doing harm, they'll kick your ass,

While back at home, their kids and puppies yelp

And wives must give that dinnertime a pass.

So when some bastard shoots a working cop

It's right that civ'lization's at a stop.

To Be A Way-Station For Friends On The Road Is Another Great Reason To Be A Homeowner!

Another reason that I love my pad
Occurred this week. I had a house guest, who
Is not related to me. I was glad
To put up an old friend, just passing through.
He stayed for just one night. We dined and talked;
And reminisced on old pals. It was good.
He met a newer friend of mine; we walked
Our silly dogs through my new neighborhood
And in the morning, much to my delight
He tuned up Deep Blue so he's at his best
For summer rides (Deep Blue is my dear bike),
Then said good-bye and left for the Midwest,
His destination Brooklyn and beyond.
Farewell, dear Adam, of whom I am fond.

Kleenpocalypse - Or How it's NICE to Cry For Once

I think today on other times I've cried
The way I did when he held up his hand
And promised he would do his best to guide
Our progress t'ward the future of this land.
There were some, yes, but rarely tears of joy
Welled up this way. Through my much younger eyes
I saw a spaceship, like some ill-made toy
Explode and streak in pieces through the skies.
And 9/11, of course brought forth my tears,
As did the storm that swallowed New Orleans.
These pains, at least, have faded o'er the years.
There will be more, but for now what this means
Is that I'm happy, proud to see this day
But sad to know the feeling cannot stay.