July 1, 2024
A Pause for Poetry
By Gary Heath
Poet in Residence for 50+ Lifestyles.
Ridgecrest Dream on Clay
I want to play the Madrid Open one day,
I hear old, rachitic men are fast on clay!
To be sure, one thing my old bones know,
On the grass of Wimbledon, I would be slow,
Yet on Spanish clay my fame might grow!
So, at green Wimbledon I won’t even try,
To that famed, royal venue I won’t even apply!
I only dream of senior, silver tennis in Spain,
Where I can win belated wealth and fame!
My youthful vigor long ago had its finest day,
Yet my Iowa dream on clay is here to stay!
Today I nap and dream far from Ridgecrest,
I dream on Spanish clay I’m the very best!
Blueberry Sky to Pollen Yellow
The water is blueberry today, like the sky,
And the sun in the blue is getting low
And the light is turning pollen yellow,
Over the rippling, shining blue lake.
A breeze whispers over the mirroring
Water, and birds sing vespers in trees
Fringing the lake, a crepuscular scene
Shadowing over the water to eventide.
The day fades out of the blueberry sky,
Blue receding to pollen yellow, soft
Vermilion and burnished orange, this
Diurnal pristine palette pales into night.
