..................................................................................................................................................
The Poetry Of.
Michael Rivet...........................................
Hibernation
I shake the aches from my limbs
And rub sleep from my eyes –
The sun has risen but I have not
Early morning chill still seeking
The undersides of my blanket
Pushing me out of bed.
Slowly, I make my way to the kitchen,
Arch my back in an age-old snapping
Blinking in the morning light
Glowing in through my bay window –
The cat elongates across the radiator
Eking out a few more degrees of warmth.
Hesitating on the porch, my dog stares back,
Bark lost in his throat, I shove open
Screen door last used to push snow –
Lawn chairs in hibernation, thermometer
Hovers below full spring, awaiting orders,
For the onset of all out summer.
Evening Shift
I couldn’t find the last sliver of moon
Hidden behind the trees as they danced
In the evening wind of early spring,
Clouds sprayed across the horizon beckoning
A few drops of rain –
Days like an oven, April a dream
Compared to the deep, depressing snows
Of the Northeast I’d almost left
Abandoning the stately peaks and elderly valleys,
The scenic highways and forlorn battlefields,
The workaholic waterways,
And the people
Denizens with a humor to crack brick
And fire the coal stoves of this nation,
To spend long winter evenings plotting
An empire –
Distant from commencement of an evening shift,
I wrap my coat about my chest
And hum a tune from childhood
Knowing I’ll be cleaning the pool tomorrow
Or shooting some hoops
As my dog begs for a jaunt
Through the pine trees so evergreen.
Tip-Toeing
Midnight and the cats scatter
computer screen glows
her glasses afire with the reflection
asleep where I left her
instant messages holding a séance;
Gently, my practiced hands,
closing each limb
of glasses, watch, and rings at angles
no easy thing to leave
her struggle against the blankets.
Still, sunlight wanders in with early robins
like drinking buddies
crashing for the night –
I, the rooster, tip-toeing
to those last beats before day-break.
