Changing seasons

May comes and goes as quickly as roses
Bloom and fade. Only green thumbs and thorns
Abide. Rain falls occasionally; from time to time
Bushes burnish, turn brown and die. Their roots
Either thirst too much or founder in a flood.
Some common ground for growing plants is needed.
Fertile does as fertile is. Cardinals select highest
Limbs of trees to nest in, ignore, neglect
Bird houses I have tied with strings or used
Coat-hangers I have straightened and strung
In suspension from branches to hold homes for them.
Grass is kept separate from weeds by intensive
Spraying. Heliotropes seek and worship their god
Of sunshine. Scuppernongs are born, begin
To grow a kind of grape for August harvesting.
Althea blossoms, blooms called hollyhocks.
Some are white alone, some
White with reddish-purple centers. Camellias
Bide their time and wait--their turn will come.
Lizards eat insects in the greenery on my porch.
The cadence here is intermittent rest between
Many flashes of fervid action where going forth
Furnishes attractions that rarely retract themselves.
Constant motion indemnifies its flow from any loss.
Flora and fauna flare and sprout;
In flurries water runs, retreats to its redoubt.
Summer waxes, springtime wanes.
One season's play is nearly done.
Contests of another are just begun.

Praise for March (published in Huntingdon College literary magazine)

March is a month unto itself.
Maims the skittery pigeon's brain
And buckles Robin's red breast.
It is an acid test for flaws in phlox
And sets standards too chilled for spring.
Puffs its whiskey breath into cordials
Like April or May
Lifting their dainty skirts in terror
Or turning up their azure noses.

March is the gruff old troll.
Tenacious as the ghost of winter.
A savage giving sages lumbago
Or death pretending aphrodisiac
To spinster days.
It walks defunct parks
Like littered paper wrappings
And swirls, whirls its travelers
Into oblivion.

And then, remorselessly, it is gone.

The Eye-Chart Testimonial

You must receive permission to see
Our optometrist. We do not treat
Fatalistic vision. We do, however,
Have on sale many shades of rose-
Colored glasses. You should no doubt avail
Yourself of this way of seeing; as time passes
Only easy payments are involved
And these spectacles enthrall the way
You look at things for years. If you wish,
Ointment may be prescribed to do away
With tears. Our doctors, trained in tunnels
To look straight ahead, funnel each effort
And can detect at once the chance of
Looking askance, a defect we have
Years of practice in correcting.
When you leave our premises
We will have cured your eyes
Of any irregularities or nemeses
Such as the belief, which we guarantee
Will be relieved, that all around you
What you see is lies. Our slogan is,
"When we are through with you,
You won't believe your eyes!"
By William Pitt Head