For Forty Years

The manna came

Congealed in the grassy

Backyards

Of the Hebrew migrants

Rising

Efflorescent

At dawn and

Dissolving

In the afternoon sun

Honey flavored

It would spoil after a day

Except on the weekend

When it would last for

Two

How long did it take

Then

To become a stale chore to the

Early morning gatherers?

How long before the

Bakers

Stopped seeing the significance in their hand-pressed

Wonder bread?

How long before the taste of the

Blessing

Turned their bellies

Bitter?

And when did God discover

(If indeed, God could discover)

That even daily miracles won't hold

Nomadic hearts

Wisdom

A small

Hungry

Flame

Flickering dangerously

In the blustery wind of

Fools

Scandal

The queen had tooted

Cut the cheese

(Baser Englishmen say “fahted”)

In the midst of dignitaries

The prince ignored it

The princess smirked

The duke did raise his voice a bit

But journalists then went to work

The Sun exposed it

The Mirror spread it

The BBC skirted around it

But every person soon had read it

Comics chortled

Pundits stressed

(Some blamed a lax rear guard)

The palace PR blamed the chef

The kitchen stewed with accusation

Recipes were reassessed

The cooks left on a long vacation

 

Balls were canceled

Tea was late

Crumpets were all crisp and crumbly

Ambassadors became irate

“Let it blow over”

Some did suggest

Her majesty wryly replied

“That's what got us in this mess”

But some new scandal came around

The queen's faux poo was soon forgotten

Peace returned to England's crown

And so did baked au gratin

Suspenders

Men who think the belt buckle

To be a vexing obstacle

May prefer a shoulder strap

To a patent leather wrap

They may gladly have that right

As long as there's no end in sight

I See Cows

In the pattern of

Dots

On the ceiling tile

And shapes of cats and

Dogs

In the beige swirls on

The floor

This pertinacious habit

Of organizing chaos

Puts faces in the

Curtains

And bunnies on my toast

While I've never seen the

Virgin Mary

In my latte foam

I've seen Winston Churchill

Glaring

From my blanket folds

Across the Path

The winter woods

A tangled

Crosshatch brown

A faux spring clears the

Patchy snow

To loose the unclaimed ground

Adjacent runs the vineyard

Rows

Evidenced the copious care

Fruitless now

But neatly pruned to

Yield another year

And I am sometimes tangled

And I am sometimes rowed

If there is one

I've cause to be

I choose a tended soul

The Worst Cars Ever Built

Internet list

Had Dodge Aspen at number 3

Just like the dark green one

My dad bought for

My sisters

The one that him and I spent

Hours together

Rebuilding the rusty front fender

After an accident

The one that I inherited

After college

The one that was parked on the street

When a young driver hit that

Very same fender

And I learned to deal with insurance companies

The car that taught me everything I know about

Fixing brakes

And replacing belts and hoses

That car that never once got stuck

In the snow

When the transmission went out

I prayed for a miracle

And my friend Milo helped me tow it

To a back-woods garage he knew of

And the mechanic just happened to have

That particular torque converter

Leaning up against the side of

His barn

I will never again own a car that's

Transmission was fixed for

A hundred twenty five bucks

And when we finally gave it away

The happy new owners

Thanked us

Without caring that this was

One of the worst cars ever built