SUSAN H. CASE

Rickrack

I never did get used to 
the official start of spring
pinging back and forth
like an indecisive dog

instead of laying
well fed in the sun
predictably 
on March Twenty-First.

Nor the other seasonal 
fits and starts.
Nor my very pathetic father
who crated up suddenly

and moved us north
in the Bel Air Wagon
away from the familiar creped 
smog of the city the irony

of the vehicle lost
on my mother, my sister
before they all gave up
and crept quietly back.

Nor the rover eye I married 
for high flying escape
necessitating another 
jagged uncertain lurch down.

Perhaps if I count carefully
and circle ten times
before sitting.

Perhaps if I paint
an Asian harmony symbol
on my front stoop.

Perhaps if I give a dollar
to the homeless man
on my corner each morning.

I can halt some of the zig
stall some of the zag
add a little level to the mood.

copyright 2003 SUSAN H. CASE

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SUSAN H. CASE

Out of My Ordinary Way

Still there, I saw, long after she worked on them
kneeled to groom and though gloved
she watched for thorns.
Expecting disaster was all that was left at the end.

New owners repainted the peeling boards
replaced the roof. 
I guessed fixed the inside too 
wire, pipe and plaster. 

Yet there's something to be said for faulty wiring.
Not the kind that overwhelms with flames. 
Should be just enough to fire 
her up. Keep her lasting longer than expected.

See, no madwoman there after all. 
Just an elderly gardener
fussing on her knees
next to an aged house.

copyright 2003 SUSAN H. CASE

your comments or contact SUSAN H. CASE