Early autumn sundown,/summer on the cusp/like a puppy so soft and cuddly/you felt you'd die/if you didn't hug it hard/but knew you'd kill it/if you did,/so you flex all over/and make a small noise.

The smell all breaking heat waves/andanticipation of after-harvest hunts,/of riding out to get the stock down,/of sticking near the place/and calling on Colleen/or seeing if anybody new has come to town,/of many pleasant things/sure but as yet unknown.

Farrell began to move in the chair/then to violently pull/at the blanket tangled in the arms./The locked wheels groaned on the porch./Help me outa here, Jordy./What?/Don't just stand there,/I said get me up./I'm diein' in here./He struggled, and Jordy helped him/ to stand and lean against the porch support./He winced and locked his knees, moving his shoulder/a little lower on the post/and breathed deeply of the autumn cool.

I 'bout wish I could die right now, he thought,/imagining his falling onto the porch steps/before Jordy could catch him. Then,/this is nice. Maybe a little pain here and there/but nothin' a man can't take yet,/and it's right nice to be standin' again.

Fellow shouldn't be sittin' on an evenin' like this,/but leanin' on the porch is OK./Lookin' out at autumn is so fine./He took another deep breath and made a small noise.

What?/I love you, Jordy./Jordy said, uh,/and the old man grinned and watched the horse/buck and run in the pasture/against a thunderhead/still far and low on the horizon,/silently lighting the distance in the gathering darkness.

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), November 10, 2003

Answers

Well, snider. Right here in the middle of the great thong debate, you go and slip in some real poetry. Very good too. Keep this up, and we'll give you the key to the inside restroom.

-- Lon (lgal@exp.net), November 10, 2003.

Three good ones in a row and we'll let you have some toilet paper too!

-- helen (we@got.us.some.talent.here!), November 10, 2003.

Haiku now humbly

Bows out, paltry poetry

Makes room for beauty.

-- Tricia the Canuck (jayles@telusplanet.net), November 11, 2003.

Oh, no! Princess Tricia, you may not humbly bow your haiku out. It's winter, for heaven's sake! It'll freeze!

-- helen (cold@haiku.catches.cold.hatchu!), November 11, 2003.

T the C--Thanks, but even Redneck agrees that "Ain' nuthin'poultry about poetry, even them hike-yous. But what's chickins got to do with it, anyway?"

Hai-ku, Hai-ku, Hai-ku (chanted like Toky-o,Toky-o in the old James Caan movie "Rollerball"). Bring 'em on. The more the merrier. Wouldn't want any frozen to death, but chilled haiku is mm-wah (kissing and releasing fingers and thumb like an Italian over his favorite concoction).

Speaking of favorite concoctions. Anybody heard from the Bee lately?

-- J (jsnider@hal-pc.org), November 11, 2003.

I'm here J, thanks for asking! Though I can't even begin to match the beauty of your poetry.

Seems I volunteered to cook (or should I say cater?) the office Thanksgiving lunch this Friday. I have to cook 60 pounds of turkeys. Two turkeys down, (actually #2 is in the oven as we speak!) two to go!

That reminds me, my story telling friend at work has gifted me with some new stories! So back on topic: BE LOOKIN OUT!

-- Aunt Bee (Aunt__Bee@hotmail.com), November 11, 2003.