L'aura del Campo

Battenfeld and 3 cinquains

SPRING: 15 Bahá (4 April)

Weather where I am: 62º and sunny and feels warmer.

Weather where Nada is in Ojai, California: 55º, wet, and flash flood warnings.

Weather where my mother is in Amherst, New York: 39º and snowing in the area.

Ah ... Spring. Yep, it done sprung all over the place here. And if we get the storms predicted on Thursday, it might just all blow away. Which way? Dat-a-way . Like to the land of Misery, as in KCMO.

for Gastón Araoz in DC:

By Battenfeld forsythia hangs its golden strings and henbit turns the lawn a shade of lavender. The redbud's trying to bloom its purple majesty up in the woods in back. I looked above their crooked limbs and noticed how New Fraser Hall was missing tiles from its roof. What's missing most is you.

The fountain isn't turned on yet. Yet grass grows green and long. It's time to mow where dandelions grow like eggs, eager and sunny side up. The white barked poplar has lost a limb or two; other trees you knew are gone. But the redbud blooms and this is Kansas, pregnant for another storm.

I go under the arch and climb the steps. Up on the hill, red tulips grace the lawns of Hemenway's hall and Twente's magnolias are draped in pink. Soon the lilacs will heed the call of Spring and all will inhale their fragrance from afar.

I write this along the path to the library where once you studied. As the semester draws towards the end, the kids fill seats to write their papers, under flourescent lights and teacher's deadlines. Do you miss it? Don't you remember? Some things never change at all. [163.36]

A need to nap

Didn't sleep well last night. Not been sleeping well for awhile. Even took a shower before going to bed. Didn't help much. I'm tired all the time. Started taking a nap at the coffeeshop, which is verboten.

After two cups of coffee, finally woke up and went to my car. Spoke to Adam, explained I may be moving it soon, as my friend Hubbard Collinsworth is getting an apartment where I can hopefully park it. So, I left there to raid the spice racks at the ghetto Dillons, the local grocery store. Bought most everything as Hubbard's cupboards are going to be bare: hungarian paprika, lemon pepper, mace, oregano ... whatever I could find! He may be eating peas and potaotes forever, but he can spice them differently every time.

Back at the car, I went through some packets of old photos to take out the cd disks and check to see whether I should download any images. That's next. I even took some photos today. Got the cherry blossoms in Friendship Park. Considering how long I sometimes take to get them developed, you might ... I said might ... see them next year.

As for the photo Michela sent to me of her, Kami and me at the parade last Saturday, not likely I'll post that either! It's a good photo ... of them ... me? Reminds me I need to lose 30 pounds, trim the beard, cut the hair and not wear a cap when my photo is taken. LOL.

Cinquains sketched yestereve:

Unagi

Thin whips,
the thrash of life,
the twine of rope-like fish,
wrapped in rice, the center of cold
sushi. [163.35a]

Kombucha

Mushrooms,
ferment in tea,
the scent of vinegar,
that down the throat, restores the balance
within. [163.35b]

Dandelion Day at the University of Kansas, 1941

Yellow,
vast fields of gold,
thousands of students digging
ninety thousand pounds of salad,
tossed fresh. [163.35c]

Kevin Higgins, "The Boy with No Face"

I was reading Caomhín O hUiginn (Kevin Higgins) yesterday. He's an Irish writer who wrote "The Boy With no Face." I especially like: 'I am Ireland', 'Desparate Weather', 'The Evidence', 'Blackhole' and 'To certain lyric poets'. He even used the word shillyshally in one poem and I haven't seen that word in years. Grew up with the phrase. Does anyone use it now?

SENSED

Grape hyacinth coming up between the bricks; fragrance of the crabapple; mustard over 2 feet tall; redbud, sculptured, leaning like a bonsai; blue windflowers.