One Fine Day

              I

Of Parts And Oneness

Beady-eyed termites,

              eating away

    at the foundations

    of our institutions

                  for years

              for this day

              to come

                 and pass

On their best-laid plans;

     for a better world

     to come about

Than their dystopian one.

                         Part

            of the process,

                         yes.

           But just a part

              nevertheless.

            II

A Soft Spring Day

     In The Sun

A soft spring day

In the sun

In Long Beach

            (the one

On the west coast

Of the continent

And the nation

Of the U.S.A.

That is to say),

          reading

     on a bench

            facing

         the sea;

 the promenade

Alongside I sit

                filled

With passersby,

           breaking

My concentration

     occasionally

  but not unduly

                    so

As a natural part

Of the bucolic scene

(With the rushing-by world

of Ocean Boulevard

To my back, somewhere

In that bleak distance…)

       ,,,and here comes

A lovely young woman

               in a long

And fancy dress

      (a bit jarring

  that sight, amidst all

  the naked legs

  parading by)

With an equally lovely

Little daughter (in her

Sunday best, I realize),

                    licking

    a lollipop.  What

         a lovely sight

Against this tranquil background

Of small boats passing by

                        and birds

Of equally varied types

Wheeling in their flocks

Looking for morsels

From the human beachgoers

Down below my gaze

From the cliff from where

I take all this in

Like a morsel for the soul…

     ,,,and then my attention

           is drawn back 

To the singular duo

                 of mother 

           and daughter

           as the mother

 (and what a morsel

  she is; a feast

   for the eyes

   and senses.  God has

   to have a masculine part

   as well as the active,

               creative part

   of Mother) braids

Some small flowers, 

                         picked

Alongside the walkway,

Into her daughter’s hair.

                          Where

             is a Renoir

When you need one???

                          - but wait - 

               there’s more

   to be added to

   that singular sight

               I can tell

               intuitively:

               Here comes -

                   obviously - 

      The Father

              (completing

               the picture)

                    handsome

In his Sunday best

And - would you believe it? - 

With their little boy

In his little-man's Sunday-best

                  suspenders

             to join their

             other half.

As they then

            walk away

             together

Down the curving walkway

             to the beach

             on the west coast

             of the continent

             and the nation

             of the U.S.A….

               I hope they

               are in

               this country

               legally

               (for they are

                 Hispanic

                 it is easy

                 to see).

         I would hate 

       to have to rain

     on their passing

             parade.

             Be legal

      you lovely couple

 and for the sake as well

      of your lovely pair

            of children.

              Please.

         As jihadists -
          those other
              slip-ins
       into the country
           amidst the
            invaders - 

        wait patiently

         in the wings

         for their call

           to pounce.

  For, that information

       is the nature

       of my reading

     on this fine day

         in the sun.

      On its surface

            that is

            to say.