Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Archive for June, 2025

YARD SALE

An hour or more into the sale;
One customer so far.
Trying not to look at my cell phone,
But instead enjoy the neighborhood.

I’m in a lovely patch of shade
On this hot and humid day.
A light breeze blows, and it’s quiet,
But for the birds and the remaining cicadas.

So pleasant to sit in the quiet,
Observing neighbors go by –
None of them interested in buying.


Two boys keep riding their bikes
Back and forth, back and forth.
A man walks by, across the street,
Looking at his cell phone.


Well, I might quit early,
Though I have some good things to sell,
Like vegetable plants and fresh garlic.


The second day of summer – so quiet.

—————————–

No, wait, a few more people drop by,
Some retired folks from a neighboring town.
Also a young man, and possibly his mother –
Real estate people who stage houses.

They didn’t buy anything, but so what?
I’m having a blast on this quiet day.
I love meeting people from various places.
Then, a few more show up and spend a few dollars.

As far as noise, don’t forget the lawn mowers –
They aren’t quiet, but part of the daily warm-weather ambiance.
I read a book when it’s really slow,
Or listen –the birds and cicadas keep chattering.

There must be a swim party down the street.
Cars park a few doors away; children in swimwear.
They won’t be buying anything here.

At last the hour comes, to end the sale.
Many items packed, to give away –
And some left out with a sign saying “FREE!”;
Some items taken with glee.

At dusk, some items still remain.
I slowly put it all away.
Only $4.50 in profit made,
But had a pleasant, quiet day.

The second day of summer.

TRINITY

Three boys ride bikes along the road,
Fishing poles bending as they go –
Nearby must be a fishing hole.

Three deer burst through the dense woods deep;
Their hooves ring loud along the street.
I wonder if they’re good to eat?

Three rabbits pranced among the clover,
A baby and two others, older;
And then they run for shelter, cover.

Three stars danced in the sky so bright –
Planets, or just meteorites?
They spread a fantasy of light.

Three Persons in eternity,
One Being in infinity,
One bond in perpetuity.

The Ohio Difference

It’s almost four years now, since we moved from the south San Francisco Bay Area in California, to Ohio. It’s been a challenge, mostly emotionally, but I think well worth it. Some observations on the differences are noted below.

The biggest for me: WEATHER. While the Bay Area climate is quite mellow, a Mediterranean climate, here in Ohio the weather constantly changes. In the Bay Area I could garden almost all year. I could go for pleasant walks most of the year. I suppose in Ohio I can go for pleasant walks in the winter, but It’s more difficult with multiple layers of clothes, and sometimes ice.

CLOUDS: In Ohio, the clouds are amazing, almost every time they appear, which is often. Absolutely stunning at times.

CHIGGERS: In the Bay Area, I didn’t have to worry about almost-invisible chiggers (or maybe they are no-see-ums). I dread going out the backyard, where they seem very happy to congregate, in warmer weather. I have numerous methods to deal with them, including bug spray with peppermint, and showering immediately after a stint in the garden. Otherwise, it’s an itchy prospect.

CICADAS: Now these are midwest bugs I can deal with. You can see them, they don’t bite or cause an itch, and generally leave you alone. They appear in May and wind down in mid-June. Yes, they buzz all day, but I don’t mind it.

COST OF LIVING: Much cheaper in Ohio. I estimate that the house we have now would cost ten times as much in our old neighborhood.

FREEWAY ON-RAMPS: In California, a simple on-ramp (not merging into an off ramp) is marked at the left with dashed lines, which *disappear* at about the point when the combined width of the on-ramp and the lane to the left is about a lane-and-a-half wide. In Ohio, the dashed lines for simple on-ramps just continue until they contact the right edge of the road.

FRIENDLINESS / HELPFULNESS: People seem friendlier than in the Bay Area. It could be because we’re in a less densely populated place. Once (but this is nearby Kentucky), we were driving home at night and pulled over because I couldn’t find my cell phone. Almost immediately, a truck stopped behind us, and two men came up and asked if we needed help. I realize that something far less pleasant could have happened, but it was an encouraging experience.

FENCES: In our old Bay Area neighborhood, just about everyone had a six-foot tall fence around their back yard, some even taller. In our current neighborhood, we have a six-foot fence in the back, but there are only one or two other families around, one of which I know to be California transplants like us, who have something similar. Most people have no fencing, invisible dog fencing, what’s called a Kentucky board fence, or a split rail fence.

“UC”: Does not mean “University of California,” but “University of Cincinnati”.

Cicada Circus

They come in swarms, they call them broods,
Their buzzing, constantly renewed.
They sometimes light upon your arm,
Though do not mean a real harm.

Their eyes bug out, a little red,
From a black oval (that’s their head).
Their wings, like glass with yellow veins,
And little legs with orange strains.

The rhythm of their coming varies —
Some 13 years, though others tarry
For 17 years — the species vary —
And there are some who yearly come.

We wake up to their constant hum —
Unharmonious, instrumental thrum.
A background noise you can’t escape,
Though birds will gladly seal their fate.

Factually, they’re pretty cute,
Potential mates might give pursuit.
But if one happens in your hair,
A squeal of fright you might declare.