November 21st, Not in Service – Richard Luftig

Here are the first two (out of three) of Richard’s poems that we’ll be publishing. Reading these really is like sitting in a gentle misty rain on an overcast day. Things are wet, but the sun’s presence is apparent through the clouds’ diffusiveness.

We enjoyed them. We hope you will, too.

___

November 21st

Cold today.

Grass still

Wet. An old push-

 

Mower rests,

   Rusts, near

A weed-strewn

 

Shed. Clouds collide

   In a wary

Sky. Sun low,

 

Hidden, behind

Long pines

And cedars

 

That line the wind-

   Break side

Of these fields.

 

Cold today.

   Sometimes

I wish winter

 

Would tell us

What it really

Intends when it takes

 

The faint pulse

   Of these bare-

Shouldered trees.

 

~~~

Not in Service

As I sit on this bench, waiting

in the rain, each passing city bus

announces the same destination

across its front. Not in Service.

 

God knows, I probably deserve it.

Punishment for last Sunday,

on my way to the golf course,

playing hooky from Mass,

 

and the sign in front of church,

all in caps, like at a Seven-Eleven,

letting everyone know like the message

on that bus where currently I am not.

___

Richard is a former professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio now residing in California. His poems and stories have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and internationally in Canada, Australia, Europe, and Asia. His poems have been nominated for the Pushcart prize and two poems recently appeared in Realms of the Mothers: The First Decade of Dos Madres Press. His latest book of poems will be forthcoming from Unsolicited Press in 2019. Richard’s webpage and blog may be found at richardluftig.com