Man, did I have to hustle to get this to Dante in time.
APRIL IS NATIONAL POETRY MONTH
Why not write a poem about Mailman Dante?
Dressed in blue like a cop with a little
blue protective mask
I'll write my poem upstairs in the room with the little window
where the new buds of spring stud the branch of my last
remaining maple.
When I moved here 31 years ago, three maples
grew to majestic proportions
each one decaying and falling,
crumbling to their deaths.
Worse than the Corona virus!
Dante's mail truck is stuffed
like a Whitman's Chocolate Sampler
Mail today is mostly ads
I pile them up in my living room
Under the twirling fan
On Trash Day I stuff them in the
Yellow Plastic Bin in Tall Bags
and off they go, singing for joy,
to be resurrected when the time is ripe
into Park Benches.
Down I lay on the bench, reading a good book
from my library. Nancy Drew, girl detective
would be just fine.
...
This COULD be my Yellow House but it is not.
Will go on back porch now and read Klara and the Sun, the Martin Amis book Inside Story and The Impersonator by Heidi Pitlor.
So much reading, so little time.
Who dis?
Where dis taken?
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