Monday, November 05, 2012

November's antics

Don't fiddle with the gadgets in the pantry; 
Go scrape the ice from birdbaths and tree-houses. 
In the town of Marblehead, denizens are spry -- 
The water-works, the mine-shaft, what else gives? 
Woods were foliate, back when, with veined nouvelles 
At seven-three-thirty, at fourteen-five-point-six. 
Night practices her scales, the lissome singer, 
When insular starlight glozes our dismay. 
The repertoire's impertinent: loose change, 
Moon over Winnipeg, astral patty-cake. 
Is this production feeling its oats? We need perchance 
Full recompense for all those graceful oafs 
And two-bit, three-bit players -- they gave us much: 
Bright colors and a cheerful mise-en-scène

An echo of a celibate shibboleth, 
Eerie and wan, sneaks in beneath the harsh 
Snarl of neighbors bickering over snowbanks, 
Drifts of the white stuff blocking the Johnsons' driveway 
Through which a snazzy Merc Cyclone is wont to roll. 
The argument makes a crumpled, dusky din; 
Trees overlook the ringing ... Time out! Zut! We need 
A respite from rambunctious hoi polloi
Drawn-out retreats at abbeys 'mid whose groves 
Howl wolves, wail owls; every now and then 
Wafts the lyric plaint of Philomel, alias Biffo Bailey, 
On a leafless bough, alas, or winging high above 
The wounded earth, with its parties and its rhetoric, 
Breeze of a charlatan, jocular, sublime.