'tis the season

the crows found a way into the garbage

a murder you could call it

the grapefruit musta had just enough

vitamin c left

to make it most desirable

     also

too many candy wrappers

for good dental hygiene

it rained most of the night

cardboard recyclables soaking up

the morning

     warm again

it must be spring

--- e b bortz

earth note 836

we waited too long

to shake the pear tree

maybe next year will be different

'course the deer & the mourning dove

need a break too

this pear tree could have played

in the nba

towering above even the pines

always bending with the wind

someone told me

a stepladder is not a new invention

--- e b bortz

earth note 835

when the longest night ended

an owl called out halfway down the ridge

it's about time to start listening

the treetops finally went motionless

school buses took to the avenue

a month late

the new variant has grabbed

every headline

it feels like a choke hold

the country needs a long sick leave

even the river takes the magic

out of the valley & sends it down

into endless grey

coal for the stockings

we can always come up

with another pretext

before congress goes home

--- e b bortz

so what if a long december is self-absorbed

where a dry river use to flow

it doesn't mean next year

will be a total bust

you can search the shoreline

before the first snow

touch every part of it

follow it to the ocean

take a rain check

on finding just the right metaphor

to describe the empty mist

the whole planet is in a mist

there are chords you have

in your back pocket

never used

if you get desperate

a few of them will do

there are california smoke jumpers

to bring you through next year

you can join them on jack's ridge

take enough water & respirators

for the crew

remember that the rivers are dry

remember that this isn't just

another lonely

misdirected

heartache

--- e b bortz 

autumn requiem

joins the rain gutter 

snare rhythm section

pinging just before another cloud burst

before a thorough dousing

a dog barks on the heels 

of base drum echo

where saints are marching up the avenue

exhausted leaves in their wake

still a couple weeks

'til the winter solstice

--- e b bortz 

earth note 834

there's a gravel pit

battered machinery

and a sour water well

at the end of the limestone road

beyond that

black mountain rises fast

to get away

gray days wear you down

running out of time

is always just an approximation

your feet are your best tools

search & remember

each trail head & valley

for new flora

--- e b bortz