RED TAIL HAWK

Perched on a tree branch, swaying slightly
in the June breeze.
Napoleonic: One talon on branch,
one tucked under his belly feathers.

Bing cherry eyes, hooked beak,
dull brown coat with white specks,
downy white front feathers and,
of course, the red tail.

I blink.
He swoops into the brush
and leaps back up to the branch.
No luck.
No lunch on this try.

He glances my way.
If I were smaller,
I would be his lunch.
He views me haughtily,
as Napoleon to a
Russian peasant.



©T.Puma/MMXI

DIRECTIONS

George Washington Bridge,
Major Deegan Expressway,
Triboro Bridge.

Wait.
The Triboro Bridge has been re-named,
“RFK”, for Robert F. Kennedy.

OK, I have no problem
with re-naming bridges,
and no problem with
Robert F. Kennedy.

But, why re-name the, “Triboro”?
Its name says it all
multiple points of entry and exit:
Manhattan, The Bronx, Queens.

So, how do novice
and veteran travelers
know that “RFK”
has multiple points?

Oh, by the way, “RFK” leads to “JFK”.

Anyway, I set in my brain
the mnemonic, “RFK”,
to remind myself of the bridge
and its connections:

R-Ranhattan
F-The Fronx
K-Kuh-weens.

©Puma/MMXI

GULF

The turtle and the seal- neither dash nor deliberate-
kept them from the earth’s oily ooze,

or pelican fly, betrayed by his dive, a natural urge,
wings leaden, into a watery demise,

or crab and shrimp scuttling on the Gulf
sea floor, an alien surface, bereft of sand-food.

Men and machines and mistakes and missteps
and greed and life-styles and marine life.

Life resumes with minor diversions,
the earth will once again swallow hard
and belch its disapproval.


© Puma/MMXI

ATLANTIC

What a drop am I in mid-Atlantic sea,
to think that this revolves around me.

What a grain of sand I am on shore,
to take the Ocean lightly, no more.

Peace with myself to know,
my place on this water-ball,
my ashes, to sea, do throw.

Puma/MMXI
(‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’)

AMUR TIGER

Tiger, tiger, fading light;
How did we get here?
Are we in the twilight
of your Night?

Not a Disney character, you,
but real, alive, and to be feared,
all beauty, muscle, and sinew.

Poets pen your grace,
a cat of all instinct, a fearful roar,
a winsome face.

And now we count you one-by-one,
a creature to be extinct,
and ask ourselves:
What have we done?

Puma/MMXI
(‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’)

LUNA

At 3 a.m. I awake to welcome spring.
My studio lit full, by a generational Moon.
Did the Moon give me a wake-up call?

Reminding me of my place in the Universe?
That my return to sleep may be final?

OR

Am I crazy, a ‘Lunatic’,
because of this Goddess of many names,
reminding me to worship,
or at least pay attention to Her?

Puma/MMXI
(c) ‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.

THE COLOR OF THE WIND

Redness in my cheeks,
navy pea-coat from head to hips,
black leather hands.

Peach fuzz buds, seeking sun,
brunette hair billowing,
yellow Forsythia, unstill.

Lush green swaying,
white surf spray,
cool blue evenings.

Rainbow of leaves, swirling,
grey clouds moving east,
violet school flag blowing.


Puma/MMXI
(Voices in my head, verses to be read)

POETRY MONTH

I like
what
you like,
I like
you.

I like
what
you don't like,
I love
you.

PLANTING

Ice thaw,
Spring met.
Ground plowed,
soil set.

Sow seed,
reap pod.
Pick pea,
thank God.

© Puma/MMXI

TO TSE WITH LOVE (HAIKU)

Greeting April's fool/
awaken from winter's wrath/
bitter-sweet outing.