Robert Lindner

I remember Barry.

But I don't remember what our connection was.

Sorry to hear he has passed away. 

He has the same birthday as me, though he was a year older. 

Sorry Dan,

But you cannot stop Entropy. The parts wear out.

Posted on: Jul 15, 2021 at 3:20 PM

Hi Rosanne'

The situation In Israel was and still is troubling me.

So I wrote a poem about it.

I was not sure who to share it with.

But I thought of you, of course.


Israel, Palestine and Jerusalem

Today, both Israel
And Palestine are, sadly, trying to quell
Uprisings that are due
To problems that are new,
But are caused by those who
Are trapped between their heaven and their hell,

Because Jerusalem
Is holy, but cannot be shared by them.
But it’s not a new mess,
That city’s holiness
Will need both sides to bless
Beliefs they don’t have. It’s a problem.


But revenge, for the last
Affront in a recent and ancient past
That has had too many,
Is a reason to be
Doubtful the sides can see
Where they could agree and should agree fast

Enough to stop their war
From escalating, as it has before.
It’s an ancient problem
Because Jerusalem
Belongs to us not them.
As it has for 5 thousand years or more.

5 thousand years ago,
Jerusalem, where many think they know
Their religion began,
Was named for a god Canaan
Called “Shalem.” It was an
Old city then and now we watch winds blow

The smoke of war into
The eyes of those who split hairs and argue
About the history,
Ancient though it may be.
5 thousand years, the sea
Saw Greek, Roman, Christian, Muslim and Jew

Claiming this little place
Was where they thought they belonged by God’s grace.
This little place that was
Given to them because
It was written in laws
Passed down in holy books, most of which base

Their views of history
On stories told that were mythology.
But that’s not here nor there.
Because we’re here, we’re where
The people there won’t share,
And can’t find solutions they can agree

On. Because both sides are
Divided against themselves and too far
Apart internally
To bargain for any
Solid majority
Of the Muslims or Jews. They’ve set the bar

Too high on both sides to
Negotiate. Things were better a few
Years ago, which means there’s
Higher hills, and more stairs
To climb to get affairs
In order, in order to make it through

The impasse that recent
Events have caused. Many years have been spent
Trying and they will try
Again. But bombs will fly
And some people will die
And agreements will be broken or bent
Because divisions are
Too sharp. Well, we can wish upon a star
And hope for Solomon
To take the problem on.
But Solomon’s long gone
Jerusalem today is much too far

Beyond those ancient kings
Of the city. But history still clings
To words written in an
Ancient parchment that can
Tell us how the world began
But cannot tell us how to correct things

In these new centuries
Of global war and pandemic disease.
But Israel is more
Than Jerusalem or
Palestine. But there’s war
There and with that all of humanity’s

Insanities are there.
Too soon bombs and rockets may fill the air
For now the drones rehearse.
But it keeps getting worse.
Are the Old Books a curse?
Who can say? Perhaps there’s no one who’d dare

And it would go unheard.
Israel, Palestine with their absurd
Arguments that are caught
Up in hatred that’s taught
Where God’s love should be brought.
But few appear to listen to God’s word.

A Penny For Heaven

A Penny For Our Thoughts

For Penelope Ann Thoms (Our Penny)

In for a Penny, in

For a Pound. So they say when they begin.

But Penny Thoms was more

Than any money or

Some other metaphor.

She was poetry, she was genuine.

She cared for the dying,

And brought peace to them, as they were lying

In their Hospice beds. She

Was Chaplain and would be

Bringing eternity

To their souls and to those who were crying

For a dying parent

Or for family. She was heaven sent.

As close to saintliness,

As could be. And she’d bless

Lives that were in distress

With her presence. Fading lives that she spent

Last days with, consoling

Them, their families, while she was bringing

Heaven to them. And now

She’s found it too somehow,

And ‘neath the golden bough,

She sleeps. And all the angels are singing.

From Robert Lindner For Penny

Penelope (Penny) Thoms, (Tubrid, Kenmare, Co Kerry) on the 27th of August, 2020, peacefully in the tender care of the Doctors, Nurses and Staff at Killeline Nursing Home, Newcastle West, Co Limerick. Beloved wife of the late Stephen Mead Johnson. Dear loved and sadly missed by her relatives, kind neighbours and many friends.

May She Rest In Peace

In accordance of H.S.E. guidelines and in the interest of Public Health a private funeral will take place with private cremation at the Island Crematorium Cork.

Please use the online condolence book below as an option if you wish to offer your sympathies.

Penelope's (Penny's) family and friends would like to thank you for your support and understanding at this difficult time.

Date Published: Saturday 29th August 2020Date of Death: Thursday 27th August 2020

Posted on: Sep 12, 2020 at 10:48 AM

Hi Wynndy,

Happy Birthday.

I wrote you when the fires were burning in 2018. That was in November. It's only September and there are fires up and down the coast. Once again I hope you are OK.

The fires reminded me of when I heard Deep Purple do Smoke on the Water and that triggered s poem of course.

A Fire in the Sky

“We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn't have much time

Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
But some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground

Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky”

Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple

California’s Burning

There are fires in the sky,
The winds are blowing and it’s hot and dry
Up north, where the grapes grow,
There’s smoke and the fires glow.
Santa Ana winds blow
Down south in the L.A. hills where sparks fly,

It’s a hundred degrees
Or more down there and the smoke makes you wheeze.
Fire in the sky, the smoke
In the air makes you choke,
As fierce winds blow and stoke
The fires burning through the hilltop trees.

The fierce, dry winds are in
The north and south and the fires can begin
With a single candle
Or cigarette and will
Be too hot to handle
So quickly that the fire fighters can’t win

Their race with time, as more
And more fires burn out of control before
They can get there to try
To put them out, sparks fly
On the winds as the dry,
Dry air speeds from the desert to the shore.

California’s burning
Nothing new, just much more of the same thing
Flames bursting out of trees
Skies yellow with disease
Forests as enemies
As earth heats up and the climate’s changing.

The Climate is Changing

With fires in Oregon
And moving up the coast to Washington
They are catching the rash
From California’s flash.
Forests turning to ash,
Fires in the sky, smoke blocking out the sun.

You don’t need a flare gun,
A spark can burn the trees and blot the sun.
Fires burn the Golden State,
Fires near the Golden Gate
Move north going one state
Up to Oregon then to Washington.

Fires on the west coast and
Past the desert sand, they’re somewhere inland,
Wherever the sparks will fly
When weather’s hot and dry,
There’s a fire in the sky
And Smoke on the Water’s played by the band.

Be Well, Stay Safe

Robert

A Summer Solstice on a Father’s Day

When golden rays of light will stay and stay,
Till summer’s night, comes to mid-summer’s day,
Earth’s North Pole will again
Face the sun. And that’s when
There’s summer solstice. Then
The celebrations begin and we’ll say

Happy Father’s Day this year, the day
Summer begins officially, so they
Say, each year. Then they dance
The Midsummer’s day dance.
And father’s day, by chance,
Has come too because in the USA

It’s the third Sunday in June, where it’s been
Since 1910. Since Mother’s Day was in
May before 1910
They needed a day when
Fathers got their due. Then
In 1910 Father’s Day would begin.

And now it’s come again so here’s to all
The fathers, past and present, short and tall,
At solstice, the longest
Day, and it’s also blessed
By fathers, who know best,
By papas who like mommas need a call

And a song, like “oh my papa to me
He was so wonderful” and to me, he
Was so good. Or if your
Father can’t be called for
He’s a memory or
Just a photograph smiling brilliantly

Down at you from the shelf, then you can try
To recall summers when you watched the sky
Together, when the sun
Reached the horizon,
And it had just begun
To set. Then it brought a tear to your eye

Because the sun was shining so brightly.
And it shines again in your memory,
And tears are returning,
As your father’s smiling,
And solstice day’s passing,
With a Father’s Day into history.

Posted on: Apr 10, 2020 at 7:02 PM

Hi Renee,

I meant to post this into yesterday's
Message Forum but I'd just posted though
Since the Passover is a few more days
I decided I'd send it to you. So
Here's my poem for Passover this year
The year of the Corona and its curse
Of separation, of worry and fear
That Passover reminds us could be worse.

Passover in the Time of Corona

Today, in April, the moon is full, so
Passover has come again. But we know
That this year there’s a plague upon us
A plague caused by the Corona Virus

That separates and brings us together
Through our family’s Passovers whether
They were celebrated after the war
In this free land we called “the golden shore”

And during the war in the exodus
Of our family from worse than virus
Spreading through the congregations that are
Brought together although they are kept far

Apart. Brought together by history
Of both our people and our family
History of Moses leading our tribes
To freedom, history written by scribes

In the Temple of Solomon thousands
Of years ago of tribes that crossed the sands
Of the Sinai desert to reach the lands
Promised by God. Joshua led the bands

Of freed Egyptian slaves into Canaan
And the story of our people began
Today we celebrate that history
Just as our families have done, yearly,

And we celebrate as a people and
A family that came to freedom in this land
Escaped from genocide and holocaust,
Though many of their family were lost.

We celebrate their good luck and ours too
And we’ll remember and reflect on who
We are, the children of an Exodus.
Though this year there’s a plague upon us

We know Passover is not just a time,
In spring. It’s our history. It’s why I’m
Able to say Boray Pri Hagofen,
And drink the wine, as I remember when

My grandma made soup for the family
On Pesach, when my grandfather would be
The reader of the Haggadah. Then years
Went by and like the salt water, the tears

Of our family fell, as father read
When grandfather died and he became head
Of the table and of the family.
Then I followed him with my poetry

And this April, when we celebrate, we
Become the Hebrews of antiquity
That were able to reach the promised land,
Recall the Exodus of Moses and

Also modern Jews that survived the war
And holocaust. So we’ll reflect once more
On the happy years since their Exodus
Separately, but together, let us

Celebrate Pesach and keep the virus
Socially distant. “Far away from us”
Like in Fiddler on the Roof the blessing
For the Czar. Here’s to Pesach and to spring,

As the Time of Corona’s passing us,
We’ll be the children of the Exodus,
Separately and together, let’s pray
For health until Corona goes away

For Pesach, our people, our family
May the good blessings of the season be
Yours. With Moses let us cross the Red Sea
Then we’ll sing Eliyahu Hanavi.

And Elijah will come healing power
To take Corona virus out of our
Lives. And after Elijah makes it go
We’ll end with a chorus of, “Had Gad Yo.”

Robert

I'm getting old so my memories from Nichol's and ETHS have been slip-sliding away.

But I remember Ilene as a lovely person who I wish I had known better. 

So here is my poem of farewell.

FOR AULD LANG SYNE

Let the Midnight Special Shine

Its Everlovin’ Light on Thee (For Ilene)

In Evanston high school when we were young, on the Midnight Special, this song was sung

With other folk songs on WFMT, With Dylan on harmonica and we

Were singing along with those songs that I’m remembering, as I go back in time,

With Ilene at Nichol’s and Evanston and her life, not short, but too quickly gone.

Taken by a disease called CJD that I would know from the pathology

That was my expertise. It would have been an all too rapid end with a protein

That often seems to come out of nowhere and traps normal proteins. It’s very rare.

But when it strikes it’s sudden and the brain is taken to ride on that midnight train

That does not return. Suddenly it’s passed into a protein web that spreads too fast.

But we can say we were fortunate to be able to sing songs with someone who

Had that light that shined and will always be shining that special light on you and me.

BY ROBERT LINDNER

Posted on: Oct 01, 2019 at 12:06 AM

HAPPY NEW YEAR ROSANNE!

Your Hebrew is better than mine
But I decided I'd send you a line
Or two since you liked my poetry
So here's a Rosh Hashanah poem from me
For the new year 5780
It's a long one as you'll see

5780

Another Rosh Hashanah poem? Oy!
But what can you do? You can hope for joy,
And send your family and friends a line,
Or two. Fifty-seven seventy-nine

Is history and some things were good. Some
Things not so much, but the old year has come
To an end. And it’s time to let it go
Into the next. So what’s next? I don’t know.

Our world is turning around and around
As it always has and the shofar’s sound
Is here to welcome the world to its new
Year, to Rosh Hashanah, as it has through

The centuries. Though the world is a mess
It’s not my fault. If it was I’d confess
When Yom Kippur comes and I must repent.
But I’ll not worry how my life was spent

Up till now, I’d rather think about what
The future may have in store. Though I’m not
A prophet, I can worry. I can hope
For a good year. At least, one I can cope

With would be O.K. But ready or not,
Here it comes. I’ll try to hold on to what
I’ve got. I’m not really that worried. My
Bubby worried a lot, but we know why.

The times she grew up in were one moment
To the next. Two world wars was what she went
Through. But times are different now, though they
Are fearful. The past has not gone away.

And we measure the future with its rules
That tell us the world is still full of fools,
As it always has been. But there are more,
With more humans than ever before.

8 billion humans on this little earth
With 7 billion more than since the birth
Of my mother. 5 billion more since mine.
Some believe in intelligent design,

Though there have been many deities that came
And went, but they still are called by the name
That was used to declare fidelity.
And I’m still faithful to our history.

So for our friends and our family,
I’ll wish that your New Year will be
A happy one. L'Shanah Tovah to
You. To all the family and friends who

Read my words. It’s Fifty-seven eighty
By the reckoning of our history,
And Rosh Hashanah, head of the year.
So let the Shofar proclaim that “We’re Here!”

Shana Tovah Umetukah! For
A good and sweet year. Here’s to many more.
But for now there are apples and honey
For the sweetness of life and may we be

Written into the book of Life this day
And every day. For the blessing we say
To life, to peace, L’Chaim, L’Shalom,
That’s my hope and my wish, as we come from

The old year and pass into the new one,
As the earth goes round the sun,
As time keeps passing as it always does.
Nu! Another year’s passed, and what was, was

And what is, is and what will be? Who knows?
But let’s wish for good things and hope our woes
Stay away. So peace and good health is what
I wish for you and me this New Year. But

Who knows? Still, may all that can be, be fine.
As for Fifty-seven Seventy-nine,
It’s now passed. And fifty-seven eighty
Waits for a few more lines of poetry

For me to write since that is what I do
With passing time and now my rhymes wish you
A Happy New Year once again, as I
Take one year at a time. But time will fly

One day at a time, just as the world turns.
And when morning comes then each of us learns
What that day will bring. It’s a mystery
That repeats till each day is history.

But today is Rosh Hashanah. So then
Let’s celebrate the day that marks the time when
The Book says everything began. It was
Very many years ago, but because

All we experience is when we still
Are in the space and time of now, we will
Keep to our tradition and celebrate
New Years with all the joy we can create.

Fifty-seven seventy nine is past
So Happy New Year, goodbye to the last
Year and hello to the year that is new
With my transliteration of Hebrew

With L'Shanah Tovah Tikatevu,
And L'Alter L’Chaim Tovim U'
Shana Tovah Umetukah too
May it be a good and sweet year for you.

ROBERT (BORUCH) LINDNER

Posted on: Sep 18, 2019 at 3:45 PM

Hi Ruth,

I enjoyed our conversations at the reunion and our discussion of German poetry. As I mentioned to you, I had recently written a poem about Berthold Brecht’s Three Penny Opera (Die Dreigroschenoper auf Deutch). I was drawn to the work by Louis Armstrong’s rendition of Mack the Knife were he calls out to Lotte Lenya, who was the opera’s composer Kurt Weil’s wife and played Pirate Jenny at it’s first performance in 1928. Interestingly, the play was translated from The Beggar’s Opera which was written in English by John Gay in the early 18th century. So it went from English to German and back to English, as the Three Penny Opera. In my poem I start with the german words that Lotte Lenya sang in 1928. The English version is not a translation, but an approximation to fit Kurt Weil’s music. So without further ado, here are the three pennies.

The Three Pennies

Pirate Jenny (Die Seeräuber-Jenny)
As sung by Lotte Lenya (1928):
“Aber eines Abends wird ein Geschrei sein am Hafen
Und man fragt: Was ist das für ein Geschrei?
Und man wird mich lächeln sehn bei meinen Gläsern
Und man sagt: Was lächelt die dabei?
Und ein Schiff mit acht Segeln
Und mit fünfzig Kanonen Wird liegen am Kai.”

The Threepenny Opera (Die Dreigroschenoper)
By Berthold Brecht and Kurt Weil

English Version: Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you'll wonder who could that have been
And you see me kinda grinnin' while I'm scrubbin'
And you say, "What's she got to grin?"
I'll tell you. There's a ship, The Black Freighter,
With a skull on its masthead, Will be coming in.

“Nowadays, anyone who wishes to combat lies and ignorance and to write the truth
must overcome at least five difficulties.
He must have the courage to write the truth when truth is everywhere opposed;
the keenness to recognize it, although it is everywhere concealed;
the skill to manipulate it as a weapon;
the judgment to select those in whose hands it will be effective;
and the running to spread the truth among such persons.”
Life of Galileo by Bertolt Brecht,

In the Nineteen-twenties, it was a time
Of intellectual ferment. And
In Germany, Berthold Brecht was a prime
Example of it. In those years, a demand

For change was called for after World War One.
Europe had been torn apart. Marxism was
Spreading since the Russian Revolution.
It became successful in that world because

Of the destruction that the monarchies
Of Europe had created in that war.
There was a call for new democracies.
It was then Kurt Weil created the score

And Berthold Brecht wrote the words of The Three
Penny Opera, where Pirate Jenny
Warns that the black freighter with its fifty
Cannons will be coming in and then she

May be the one to choose who lives and who
Dies among the smug Bourgeoisie, Marxists
Called the enemy, when the ship comes to
Sack the town. But Brecht’s thoughts on socialists

Changed when socialist propaganda was
Corrupted by the Nazis. Brecht had to
Leave Germany for Switzerland because
Of the rise of Nazism. So he’d do

The play, The Life of Galileo first
In Zurich in 1938 where
He lived. Then came World War Two and the worst
Times in Europe and he couldn’t stay there.

He went to Scandinavia moving
From Denmark to Sweden and to Finland.
Then the war ended. Things were improving.
Films were being made in the magic land.

Called Hollywood. But Brecht had to go
Before the so-called Un-American
Activities committee. Where he’d show
Up while some others refused and some ran.

Brecht then decided America was
Not for him and returned to Germany
And chose to live in East Berlin because
There he was free to write his poetry.

But in the nineteen twenties Brecht was part
Of a movement that would not do what was
Hoped, since idealists will often put cart
Before horse, so did those who put cause

Before what is practical, brain before heart,
Good sense before the emotions and failed.
And though appeals to fear and hate impart
No logic, still the dictators prevailed.

The Threepenny Opera came before
Those times and it was then that Brecht was brought
“The Beggar’s Opera” which was the core
Of his musical play. His version caught

The spirit of this Eighteenth Century
English Style with popular ballads sung
As the play goes on to tell the story
Of MacHeath with the song which was among

The most popular of the twentieth
Century, as sung by Louis Armstrong
With Lotte Lenya listening to his breath,
Filled voice call her name in the jazzy song

That became “Mack the Knife.” And was sung by
Many famous performers. And “Mackie
Das Messer’s” ballad was the reason why
Brecht’s “The Threepenny Opera” would be

Popular and become his best known play
And would be adapted to film a few
Times. It would called “Mack the Knife” when they
Remade it in 1989 to

Acknowledge the jazzed up song about Mack
Had become a staple of singers, who
Would end with “Look out! Old Mackie is back.”
And my Three Pennies thus ends with that too.

Posted on: Sep 18, 2019 at 10:41 AM

Posted on: Aug 02, 2019 at 10:20 AM

I'm Supposed to update my profile according to Fred, but nothing has changed.

I am still here writing poems and enjoying life. My grandchildren are older, but I am

The same, mostly. So it's time for a comedy.

Time For A Comedy

“Something familiar, something peculiar,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Something appealing, something appalling,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight”
Comedy Tonight by Stephen Sondheim for
A funny thing happened on the way to the forum.

It’s time for some comedy. We need to
Lighten things up. It’s the best thing to do
When reality seems too hard to bear.
With so many liars, you don’t know where
Things are going and rather than being
Anxious about it, it’s better seeing
The funny side of things. You can’t do much
About it anyway. Comedy’s such
A lighter way to travel through life. May
As well tell jokes and laugh along your way
Through the world. Though sometimes you need to be
Serious, it’s not fun like comedy.

Something convulsive, Something repulsive,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Something aesthetic, Something frenetic,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!

Comedy’s needed and worth exploring
When life gets too frustrating and boring.
Or life gets repulsive and frenetic.
And you’re searching for an anesthetic
To dull the pain of hearing the insane
Ravings of madmen who managed to gain
Power, sadly, over this earth where we
Have to live with sadness or comedy.
I’d prefer the latter, but it really
Doesn’t matter, since the earth will still be
Here when the clouds have passed by and the sun
Is in the sky again. So let’s have fun.

Something erratic, Something dramatic,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Frenzy and frolic, Strictly symbolic,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!

So let’s not worry and enjoy the day.
And let’s not hurry, it won’t go away.
And though the sun will set, don’t be uptight.
Let’s have “Nothing portentous or polite;”
Let’s have laughter and banish depression,
And we’ll have no anger or aggression.
There’ll be no ridicule, just a good laugh.
Our comedy may be Shakespeare’s Falstaff
Or “Laurel and Hardy” or some funny thing
With Zero Mostel that was happening
On the way to the forum, where they’d sing
That musical comedy’s opening:

Something familiar, something peculiar,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!
Something appealing, something appalling,
Something for everyone: A comedy tonight!”

A sense of humor is something every
Human has as a gift and comedy
Reminds us of that gift, though we may be
Too serious to remember that we
Can still laugh about the insanity
That sometimes challenges humanity
To try to understand why everything
Does not make sense. Why something appalling
Can still be funny, like the golden calf.
Though Moses got mad, it’s good for a laugh.
Since it’s a tale of ancient histories
Before Aristophanes’ comedies.

Nothing that's grim. Nothing that's Greek.
She plays Medea later this week.
Stunning surprises! Cunning disguises!
Hundreds of actors out of sight!
Tragedy tomorrow, Comedy tonight!

Though history is full of tragedy.
It’s a shame to dwell on that. Comedy
Is much more pleasant. Anyone can use
Their sense of humor when viewing the news
Since it’s often hyperbolic to gain
And hold our attention so we’ll remain
For commercials that pay for the broadcast.
It’s because our attention spans don’t last
Long and are getting shorter and shorter.
Which you’d know if you were a reporter
Trying to attract our attention to
Something that’s news though it may not be new.

Funerals and chases! Baritones and basses!
Panderers! Philanderers! Cupidity! Timidity!
Mistakes! Fakes! Rhymes! Crimes!
Tumblers! Grumblers! Bumblers! Fumblers!
Goodness and badness, Panic is madness--
This time it all turns out all right!

But we can only know what happens when
We experience it ourselves, but then
It may be too late. Though we all don’t know
That life’s just a joke played on us to show
How foolish humans can be, we can see
It on the stage in every comedy.
If we allow ourselves to see beyond
Our tragic fears to where the sun has dawned
And lets us laugh as Pseudolus, played. by
Zero Mostel takes us to Rome to try
To see the joke that is humanity.
Since in the end it’s just a comedy.

Hello Michael,

You look a little familiar, but it's been 55 years. I worked for the State of Illinois Department of Public Health Department of Laboratories as a Medical Director for 11 years from 1990 to 2001. After 9-11, I was recruited by the New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene to become Deputy Director of their Public Health Lab. I returned to IDPH in 2009 as and SPSA and retired in 2012.

Maybe I'll see you at the reunion.

I recognize the face and I must have known him, but I don't recall the unusual goings on that would have been in my neighborhood since I lived on Brummel Street across from Brummel Park and also went to Oakton and Nichols. I started at Oakton when I was in 4th grade. We moved from the Lakewood area in Chicago. I feel sorry that I can't recall enough about him to add a memory. I lived near Richard Winokur, maybe he will remember Dicky. He sounsd like a very interesting character to base a novel or short story on.

Seems odd that I don't remember Russel since I was on the bridge team at ETHS. But he was not into bridge yet. Well I hope he is still winning duplicate tournaments somewhere in a parallel universe.

Posted on: Feb 01, 2019 at 11:06 AM

I just got a note from Fred suggesting I update my profile.
But not much is new. I'm still cheerfully retired and writing poetry.
And I take long walks when the weather be good.
Since it has been cold and nasty out it's mostly poem time.
The poems tend to get longer when I am stuck at home.
We went to Disney World in December with our grandsons,
Malcolm 6 and Henry 3. In January, we went California Dreamin'
In Palm Springs. But we came back in time for snow storms
And below zero temperatures which left me inside thinking about
how the earth's axial tilt was responsible for winter.
So the earth's axial tilt called "obliquity" became a poem.

Obliquity

I’m off on a tangent, getting away
From reality on an oblique line
Like earth’s axial tilt causing each day
To lengthen or shorten and thus define

The seasons by reasons planetary
And orbital for earth rounding the sun
Pointing one pole and then the contrary
Pole toward the sun as every season

Passes into the next. As I’m waiting
For spring, the surety of obliquity
Takes my mind into anticipating
Getting out of winter’s reality

Of cold and grey days, away from the SAD
Seasonal Affective Disorder that
Causes depression and can make you feel bad.
So I’m keeping the winter’s dark mood at

A distance by going past the grey skies
And looking at the earth from outer space.
The obliquity of its axis lies
So Antarctica and its southern face

Points toward the sun. And I imagine
It moving away, while the earth rotates
And orbits the sun, so spring will begin
As the obliquity of earth creates

The seasons. That’s the oblique, the tangent
I’m on, as my mind wanders, as minds will,
And then we may wonder where the time went.
But I look out my window and it’s still

Winter’s grey skies and snow is in the air.
But the sun’s not yet set. But I know it
Will be dark soon as the earth is still where
Obliquity points us away. But bit

By bit we are moving to face the sun,
Moving toward the equinox again,
As we do every year, but it’s just one
Day at a time. The equinox is when

Astronomic Spring begins and sunset
And sunrise are the same in every sky
Of north and south, as our little planet
Stands upright and north and south poles will lie

Perpendicular to sun for a moment.
But equinox is still two months away,
So there are many more days to be spent
With winter snow and ice like yesterday,

Today and tomorrow and tomorrow,
As the earth’s obliquity makes seasons,
As the lengths of day and night shrink and grow,
From solstice to solstice as more of sun’s

Light changes this winter to the spring I’m
Waiting for, as I’m off on my tangent
Getting away, obliquely as time
Is here and gone and who knows where it went?

Now time’s passed into the present as it
Always does, going as fast or as slow
As relativity knows. Passing bit
By bit, as I look out at falling snow,

But ride on my tangent toward the spring,
Away from winter in my dreamer’s eye,
That’s waiting for and anticipating
Earth’s movement, as the sky is going by,

As the earth turns from day to night upon
It’s axis that obliquely points away
From the sun in winter so that the dawn
Is late and sunset’s early and the day

Gives way to night too fast to keep us warm.
Though warmth in the North Pacific Ocean
Turns the polar jet stream, but I digress
From earth’s obliquity and its motion.

That’s where my obliquity takes me, I guess,
To the North Pole, where there will be no dawn.
And polar winds blow and the winter storm
Becomes a blizzard, as I ride upon

My tangent of the earth’s obliquity,
That axial tilt that keeps the pole dark,
With no sunrise until February,
As earth passes in its orbital arc

Around the sun, that we say is above
Us, though it is 93 million miles
Away because of the gravity of
Earth keeps the marches of our human files

Perpendicular to its surface and
Caused us to believe that the earth was flat
Even as the ships we sailed left the land
Disappeared below the horizon that

Swallowed the sun. But earth was always round
And orbited the sun and rotated
On its oblique axis and we are bound
By its gravity, a force created

By mass. I’m off on another tangent,
As winter keeps me inside, looking out
At snow and grey and fearing that cold sent
Down from the pole, as winds that whirl about

The Arctic come south bringing bitterly
Cold temperatures to the winter days
That will come before spring comes to warm me
And draws back the curtain of winter’s haze

As it’s always done, as earth rounds the sun
And holds me tightly with its gravity.
And brings me back to where spring has begun,
On my tangent of earth’s obliquity.