Uneven

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Everything. The shiny,
The hot, the wishing for warmth
And that pilot’s still circling

Not caring for landing field light 
Or the heat of home afterall 
But circling 

Higher and away
As if captaining a star flight
Upon which I can only draft 

Home Team

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How fitting with tears 
Already my eyes
Awake and about, too early for my taste today
Sitting before sunrise in morning’s faux light
Unfortunate scores, smiling lovers surprised on Kiss-Cam, toxic food stuffs
Damned Birds on the field 
Root, root, root ’round my thoughts 
But I wished
Thus, the tears

Boston Block

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The walk upstairs to the house of old
Revealed
A welcome sensation
For an instant I longed
To receive its four pillars -columns standing true, proud
As my own
The chipped whitewash there and warped, seeded glass panes
Endeared me more, if possible
Than the western orientation, southern gardens and Boston Block
My four-legged friend thought to stay
At last!
But inside, too-small appointments