I live in Lawrenceville, a town just north of Atlanta, where I work as a tech writer. Beside poetry, the love of my artistic life is classical music, and though I don’t play an instrument anymore, I do write music reviews for Audiophile Audition. My poetry has appeared in Chelsea, Cream City Review, and Journal of the American Medical Association. Please visit my website, http://leepassarella.net/, for a sampling of my work.
After the Snowstorm That Wasn’t
No more than a cupful of snow
in the shadowed portions of the backyard
this coldest day of the year. The bleached sun
leaches to off-white the lichen-ed patches
of the redbud limbs, the sandy pods rattling
in a northwest wind. Through the knotted weave
of last year’s pine growth and the browner
shards of diehard oaks, a rough geometry:
turquoise rhomboids of sky searching
for that silver filigree March wears
under its west-prevailing wings.
Matter Over Mind
Old age: a time to face reality
or rather, face the reality of time.
Where’ve I put my just-brewed cup of tea?
More worrisome, it’s car keys I can’t find.
And yet the past, say, six long decades gone,
is far more clear to me than that safe spot
wherein my tea or keys reside. Tight sewn
among the many threads of my lax thought
patterns. . .there is a closet where we hang
our coats on hooks. I take my seat, my hands
so cold they throb. Teacher corrals this gang
of eight-year-olds, and learning starts. She stands
there still, before the willing, and unwilling.
To my mind, still proscribing. And instilling.
©2017 Lee Passarella
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