PHOTO: Gabor Gasztonyi

Yes, I’m jumping the gun but it feels like spring here on the west coast. Celebrated my March 8 birthday on the weekend with loved ones and our tiny bubble; chicken enchiladas and chocolate/raspberry cheesecake. Must stop feasting but think I’ll take at least another day off to celebrate. Rock on and remain well my pretties!




One more ode

Immortal springtime is a tease
though not a hedonist.

The pleasure spring brings
is a fluke, for spring

is a cog in the cycle,
we, mere wreckage.

Let’s not speak of winter’s bluster
or those who are dead to us.

Today spring is large
and in charge of the decks,

arriving at last in a tide
to reanimate petrified desire,

to banish the soggy interminable
from this paradise of cedar sweetened

ocean side rainforest,
to spur us to breed, breed, breed!

Gambol trails awash
with plashing streams, silver vernal pools.

To restore wanderlust.
To hear the splendid racket,

the shrill trills of red birds
deep in a tangle of cherry tree limbs.

Such a showy in-your-face transition
after a long dawdle,

the most raucous of seasons,
surely the most glorious.


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