R.I.P. That Big Ol' Tree

Long have we thought it dead, e'er since I bought

The KATE STATION, this tall, unlovely tree

That blocks my bedroom windows (as it ought

If it has been placed for one's privacy),

Though it still sported sickly leaves, a bit.

This afternoon sometime, it snapped right off,

Left five feet standing and twelve gone to shit

Sprawled out across the front lawn, and the trough

That was my day already, deepened. Mom

Reminds me that it could have been much worse:

It fell away from this, my house. I'm calm

E'en as I wonder who runs the tree-hearse

Here in these parts, and also wonder, too,

What made this happen. Wind? It scarcely blew!

Huh? What? Moar Cold Medicine!

I had to leave the house today: too soon.

It could not be avoided but, I'd say,

It set me back some days. Inopportune?

Try horrible. Now I just want this day

To close, though there is much yet to enjoy:

My folks came bearing dead cow for to grill

(Indoors, I think. The wind would sure destroy

Attempts to barbecue; though he's the will

My dad's a one-eyed monster just now, for

He got his mad bionics this morn, wears

An eyepatch while it heals up, all the more

To keep him indoors!). And, yes, meanwhile, there's

Some baseball game tonight, I hear. I might

Not make it through all that, though, not tonight.

In Which I Scratch My Head Over A Meatspace Encounter

I'm only halfway here, 'bout half the time,
And sometimes I get schooled in a big way
On how I'm mentally not at my prime
When my attention is divided. May
It be that I just got bamboozled, or
That I was hoping that I would be? Could
I still not understand what happened? More
And more this seems to happen. Really, should
I fret that what I seem to have agreed
To join in on tonight might be quite strange?
But then I say, "Oh reason not the need,
Such questing just shows I've a fear of change.
No matter what, I'll know in just a while
The truth behind a sly and secret smile.

In Which I Ponder How My 90th Birthday Passed And No One Sent Me A Card...

My books and furniture and chattels, all,
I trundled down steep stairs into a truck
In nineteen hours with a short break to scrawl
My name on many forms. I soon was struck
With pains in knees and forearms and my back,
And in the tissues nestled in between.
My new house is a wonder - I've lost track
Of just how oft I've said so; my joy's keen.
But suddenly I move as though old age
Did overtake me roughly in my sleep.
And spent this morning crying out in rage,
Because I couldn't find my keys, and keep
Forgetting where I'll find my underwear.
I'm living through a pre-senescent scare.