On a still summer evening
Bullfrogs soak in a pond
Swelling the sky and trees
With their approving syncopation
There is no smoother pond
Croaks one to the others
There is no brighter moon
Croaks one to the others
There are no dearer companions
Croaks one to the others
There is no finer chorus
Croaks one to the others
And on they went
Strumming the chord of that still night
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Old Age’s Ship & Crafty Death’s“)
Across the field
Someone walks
Discarded leash hanging in one hand
Best friend bounding across the grass
Both lapping up the morning
They’ve taken this route a thousand times
At first tied together
To walk together
Now together
They enjoy the same park
And the same path
And a whole new walk
-T. Weeks
(A response to “An Ended Day“)
Fat bodies and starving souls
Drift empty-eyed from station to station
Nonplussed by the selection of pizza toppings
They’re hungry for something new
For something to change
Anything
They wait in line for their number to be called
Ready for the plate
Credit card in hand
There’s nothing to fill
T. Weeks
(A response to “The Pallid Wreath“)
Sheltering shelters within shelters
And so on into the secret parts
Lost for safekeeping
Shut in for housekeeping
Painted dangerous by mystery
So let’s throw them all open
Door after door together
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Apparitions”)
To the old man
I’ll someday be
Here’s my gift to you
A legacy
-T. Weeks
(A response to “MY 71st Year“)
Diaphragms bellow and preen
Phrases turn round and round
Muffled time shuffles toward the exits
Did the writer dig for these lines
Or did they exhume him
Their relevance and my ignorance
Spar through the third act
Then laugh then embrace
-T. Weeks
(A response to “On, on the Same, Ye Jocund Twain!“
After seeing Major Barbara at The Armory)
Swept in the current
We all feel it
Swimming for shore
Each our own
-T. Weeks
(In response to “Good-Bye My Fancy“)
The way I use this town
Depends on where I live
Stop lights and grocers
Hibernated in my blind spot
Until that rush and splash
Washed away sheet rock
And comfortable routine
Now disrupted and displaced
We stare out strange windows
Strangers in our own town
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Lingering Last Drops”)
I usually take my mornings black
But today
Two people new to us
Here for the weekend
To drink in Portland
And its teas and coffees
Sat at breakfast
Near to us and greeted us
Smiles and tattoos and stories
If nothing else happens
Here’s to the travelers
Who made our day all the sweeter
-T. Weeks
(A response to “Sail out for Good, Eidolon Yacht!“)
Miles above soggy fields
Belly full of headphones
Breaching and diving
Engines hiss
Hhhhoooommmmeeee
But some hear farewells
Together we race to Portland
Not fast enough
-T. Weeks
(A response to “After the Supper and Talk“)
Life Immense 