Lawrence Hall, HSG
Look in Thy Glass
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 3
I look in the mirror and
ask, “Who is that old man?”
They said I favored my
mother when I was young
Red hair and freckles, and
an impish grin
But later they said I had
to become a man
She had her April, and
then so did I
And there are Aprils
enough for everyone
They are not my Aprils,
but they will do
Every April reflects our
youth back to us
I look in the mirror and ask, “Who is that old man?”
I miss my mother
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Battle Stations Aboard the Bismarck
When general quarters
sounded that morning in May
Did a seventeen-year-old apprentice
cook
Rushing to his topside
battle station
But remembering the chief’s
daily admonitions
And the way his mother
kept her kitchen clean
Notice on a galley table a
speck of dust
And pause to brush it away
When general quarters sounded that morning in May
Lawrence Hall, HSG
A Tattered Weed
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 2
Scene i: a lawn chair beneath a shady oak
Okay, sure, sometimes I feel like a tattered weed
After my morning’s work, creaking into my chair
And reaching for my iced tea and a book
Sipping on both for a vision of youth
My Hercule Poirot body is made almost young again
By strolling through Arden with Rosalind and Orlando
(Only for a while; they would much rather be alone…)
And then the iced tea tells me of Ceylon
Okay, sure, sometimes I feel like a tattered weed
But sometimes - forever young
Lawrence Hall, HSG
The Word’s Fresh
Ornaments
Cf. Shakespeare, Sonnet 1
The world’s fresh ornaments – children at play
In a springtime glow of iridescent greens
A sweet Creation scene of little bare feet
And puppies’ paws scampering across soft lawns
Bold pirate ships patrol the honeybees’ pool
And mockingbirds offer flights to the tops of the oaks
A line of waving crocus borders this Narnia
Oh, could there ever be a happier world?
The sun, the green, the bees, the endless day
The world’s fresh ornaments – children at play
Brand-new container just now opened
Sevin (r) is good stuff, but while we admire the biologists and scientists who make gardening and food production possible, the alligator-shoe boys in marketing are not to be trusted.
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Whistling Past the
Graveyard
No one whistles past a graveyard now
Not with the radio on and the windows up
Though in our barefoot childhood long ago
Walking home alone at dusk – we whistled
But there is no need to whistle now
The cemetery is not a place of spooks and haints
But of those childhood friends with whom we walked
Past our ancestors to the swimming hole
No one whistles past a graveyard now
Because those whom we love are silent there
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Years on the Night
Shift
Today’s student loans need not be met
How privileged of me – I paid my debt
