still more

end ‘f th’long grim winter
saint patrick’s day, they seem t’know
t’find their way t’elm street

tried th’cobden peaches,
rich ‘n’ juicy, sweet ‘n’ wet ‘n’ yellow,
moved here from new york

little grand canyon –
nice hike along th’autumn ridge,
little too long ‘n th’valley

from devil’s backbone,
they watch th’barges fight th’river
then cruise right back down

devil’s kitchen lake –
always best, he says, t’hide th’car
with no duck sticker

jury duty, murph –
th’judge has th’bailiff bring th’hot tea,
they still want t’go home

th’kid likes th’water tower,
smiley face with th’big bow tie –
b’neath it, th’leaves change

th’rainbows use chopsticks
t’pull coins from b’neath th’long branch porch –
bean soup f’r th’gathering