May 18: Red Hunting Hat, Beatnik Saurday, New Poem, "May Snow," New Cartoon

You wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all.  There was hardly any snow on the sidewalks.  But it was freezing cold, and I took my red hunting hat out of my pocket and put it on--I didn't give a damn how I looked.  I even put the earlaps down...

It's around fifty degrees outside this morning.  That's quite a change from last Saturday when I woke up to about three inches of snow on the ground.  Of course, the snow didn't last long.  As Holden says in the above passage, "you wouldn't even have known it had snowed at all."  I've been able to go running almost every day this week, and I don't run in cold weather.  I didn't need a red hunting hat with earlaps.

Today is Beatnik Saturday, and I have a new poem to share with you.  I wrote it earlier this week.  It was inspired by last Saturday's surprise storm.  Snow this far into spring puts me in a reflective mood.  (It also pisses me off, but let's not go there.)

Anyway, put on your berets.  Turn down the lights.

Saint Marty would like to share with you his...

May Snow

This morning reminds me
of my grandmother's cheek
just before she died,
how her skin pearled, pooled
on her face, fresh snow,
translucent and temporal
over the blood and bone beneath.
She inhaled like dogwood
surprised by ice, each green
breath stunned and cold.
And when time came
for the sun to rise, I could see
the shift in her ground,
how she settled into morning light,
accepted the changes:  grass
pushing through night's white dust,
a worm working the thawed
soil, waiting to be plucked
by the first bird of the day.

Confessions of Saint Marty