I live in a neighborhood
typically referred to as
a banana belt. Yes, we have
no bananas, but it’s sometimes
warm here when it’s cold
everywhere else. It’s also
April in the Pacific Northwest,
a month during which, in my entire
lifetime, I do not remember
a single day of snow.
It snowed last night and
closed our school district
down for the day. People
are posting pictures of two
to three inches in their streets
and yards. In my street and
in my yard, it’s just wet.
Really wet. There are puddles
everywhere and no snow to
speak of. And yet, my son
has the day off from school,
and I have the day off from
work. I don’t know about my
son, but I will likely work
from home, planning and
grading, getting caught up,
and I will listen to music
and maybe play my drums.
A casual poem on a casual day,
taking my time just goofing
around. It’s all right.
There’s no emergency.
I could even, if I wanted,
safely drive somewhere
on this snow day, but
I probably won’t go anywhere.
It’s fine, really. It’s just fine.
michael jarmer 
Michael J the book guy, reader guy, writer guy, friend, inspiration:
Holy Moly. I’ve been reading your Napo Month dailies, with delight, surprise and admiration. I mean, really. A glosa whatever the heck that is. Perhaps the first 13-line sonnet in the English language. Erasure always sounded abrupt and scary and dismissive until you made it promising. A new reason to love jargon, which as a reporter I was supposed to hate but kinda liked it anyway when I could claim it was lingo. Bless your unruly soul, my friend.
Thanks,
Don ________________________________
Yea! Don! What a pleasure to see this comment. I should tell you: I have big news. I’ll shoot you an email!