Richard Greene

It was one of those fine October days
free from summer’s heat and haze
but not yet gripped by autumn chill.
...

blossoms and clouds blowing white
against a blue-washed sky

aureoles of daffodils
...

Wet snow coats
twig, branch and bud.
Against the still black street
the waning season
...

I’ve taken in recent years to thinking about my funeral
and have decided to make one paramount request:
play jolly music at that ritual.
What good does it do to heap on dirges
...

Stepping out our front door
I’m suddenly awash
in the cries of geese
filling every corner
...

Yesterday north wind came
scrubbing the air blue
sending clouds scudding
across clean fields of sky
...

A crew is out for early practice
caressing the morning air
with rapt strokes
cleaving the smooth water
...

The geese are flying again
swiftly
after the languid slowness
of the snow,
...

Another World War II pilot gone.
Obit on a back page of the Times
“Pilot who downed Yamamoto dies at 84.”
A photo of three lean young men in khakis
...

I see myself becoming old.
My closet is full of suits I don’t wear anymore.
Nothing I need to wear them for.
There are days when I stay in my pajamas till noon.
...

April’s over
having, it seems, only just begun.
Once past the apex
we speed ever faster.
...

Night having gathered the haze
woven by the heat of day
come dawn
has laid it to ground
...

Though winter is with us still
the birds have begun to sing,
to the cues of spring,
first a cardinal, then a wren
...

I was there
when you were squeezed
from your mother’s womb,
coming into the world
...

The hazy morning air
though honey gold
supports no bees
only dry leaves
...

Hens pattern the chicken coop,
splotches of chestnut and white,
depositing eggs
like Fabergé favors,
...

I was a serious boy
and most of my life
rarely indulged in silliness.
Oh, I was prone to the inadvertent kind,
...

As I turn on the radio
this Saturday afternoon
opera swells out
from where I left the dial
...

My sister lives on a Caribbean isle,
little more than a dust mote on a map,
no realm of magic,
nor Ariel, nor Caliban
...

I feel your heartbeat
even though we’re not touching
when we see each other and smile
after I’ve been away.
...