The Dark ‘n Stormy

This tome, while a found remembory of Christine and I watching a New England Hurricane, from the safety of our porch, is dedicated to the peoples of Bermuda whom are getting a real one this weekend.
PS; like you don't know, The 'Dark 'n Stormy' is a drink popular with Bermuda yachters in inclement weather.

The Dark ‘n Stormy  (to the Vanaria Family, to who we are $500 grateful)

Two thirds a can of ginger beer
 two shots of back strap rum
By four o’clock I’ll have two more
 by five o’clock I’m done

  ‘Yesterday this hurricane was a cat three storm.’
  ‘Hon, this is New England, it won’t even be a cat one by the time it gets here.’
  ‘But a cat three, a cat one, the storm… it’s a cat!’

Behind our house the neighbors yard
  abuts ours ‘cross the way
They run a lawn and yard care co,
  so they’re out at work today

  ‘When that cat creeps in, will it be on tiny fog-feet?’
  ‘That’s Sandburg!’

We shared a snack of Frito Scoops,
  which we dipped in cottage cheese,
The latter which our cat Max licked,
  just as casual as you please

  ‘Max get away from that.’
  ‘With the wind coming in off the ocean, that makes this stawm a Naw’ Eastah!’
  ‘Should we color Naw-Eastah eggs?’

As we drank up on our safe porch chairs
  then the wind began to roar,
And soon, a soft rain pelted down,
  which grew to a downpour,

Which once then blew on Max our cat,
  as he ran in through the door

  ‘If there’s thunder I’m going in. Lightening can still strike here, even under a porch roof.’
  (She’s always scared of lightening)

 

I’m told that Barrits’ is the best,
  but that is rare to find.
So Goslings’ more than adequate,
 
‘You want another round?’
‘Another Dark ‘n Stormy?’
‘Thee Dark n’ Stormy!’

A stiff almighty wind blew hard,
  we heard a crackling sound,
Then boom and rush as it came down,
  and quaked the sodden ground

  ‘Holy Crap did you see?
  ‘A tree just fell!’
And a shocked moment later,
  ‘Did it fall on our yard or on theirs?
  ‘From here, it looks like half and half, but I can’t tell in this storm.’

The rain let up, the wind died down,
  our tempest tamed and calmed
Excepting gray clouds overhead,
 
 ‘The eye within the storm.’
  ‘Give me your phone, I’m going to take pictures of that tree, and then you can email it to the insurance.’

I’ll often choose the Kracken, spiced
 But Black Seal does the job,
A Domain de Canton shot too is nice,
  But right now I’m in the bag.

She got an email before bed,
  ‘They say that for a tree like that, they’ll pay one thousand bucks, but we have a deductible of the first five hundred bucks’
  ‘Five Hundred? Yeah, that’s good!’

Next morning we woke to the sound
  of a chainsaw grawing wood,
  ‘Look, theirs the neighbors hired guy…’
  ‘He’s hauling off our tree!’

Ka-Ching!
  ‘Baby, when the check arrives, just put it in the bank.’
  ‘What?’ 
  ‘Shhh! Money!’

Around Night Lake

I haven't been back to Lake Dunmore in more than two years.
I miss it.

Around Night Lake

Within her infinite black pool,
  mirror stars now bathe and cool,
From on her dock, on these dark planks
  I see headlights blare on her banks,
  who strobe and search enlightened trees
  that move in waves with black nights breeze,
I watch the lights, the curls they make,
  as circle they, around night lake

Upon her shores by this old dock,
  gay amber fireflies swarm and flock,
  they carelessly blink as they please,
  and jest with Nature at their ease,
As new mock Heavens now they make,
  on paths they teeming nightly take,
  as gaily dance they ‘round night lake

Miss Cameo Moon then lights for me,
  a flaming silhouetted tree
  as over the mountain now she climbs,
Ascendant in clear night she mimes
  her smiling lips, they purse for mine,
  our whispered thoughts, they rise and twine,
  we muse and court, she is too kind,
While loving faced, cool stars she rakes,
  as she processes ‘round night lake

Four loves my hand shall hold tonight,
  Miss Moon, Night Lake, Wee Stars and Sky,
As no wed man was ever loved,
  so gently kissed, so well thought of,
  as I’m seduced in glitter mist,
  by her below and they above
Yet lights shall pall, they ebb their glow,
  when blanket clouds begin to grow,

And lorn by dark, to sleep I’ll go,
  soon, to return, as a dreaming spectral visage,
  I radial lume my glisten shimmers,
  with starlight sparkling frission shivers,
Upon her lips cool waves I make,
  As round I go again,
    Night Lake

The Junco

Winter is still far off, today this is just my warm up.

The Junco

The Junco, he’s a ball of fat
  In feathers made of soot
His belly matches, white and chill,
  The snow under his foot

You never see him all the year,
  He never stops here by,
Until mid-Winter blizzards blow
  And snow is piling high

Then at your birdseeed he will peck,
  And squeak unmelodious songs
No others birds will come with him,
  To them he’s just all wrong

The Snowbird is his other name
  For that is when he shows,
Yet where is he the hot green year?
  I wonder where he goes…

To Iceland or the Arctic North,
  Where whither has he dwelt?
This frosty fellow sure is queer, 
 I hope he doesn’t melt…