Lakeside Park in Early Spring
I've never had a better brunch with you
at a Dutch restaurant than this one
where way too much food
was piled on three individual plates,
each plate being fit to be divided in half
and scarfed down with syrup
and maybe a little shaved ham.
The person behind us seemed a bit cold
as she squinted into some newspaper
perhaps documenting a dreary council meeting
in this little lazy lakeside town.
We left with a bit too much in the gut sack
and pack back into the car
off to the barber
where you had to sit in a line
and the barber might
barb real fine
but the times have changed
and he says, "no sir, we don't do
straight razor shaves anymore".
And before long we are leaving downtown
down to the water
at Lakeside park
the trees still stand bare
with flowers just starting to bloom
and enough sun to
dispel the gloom
and just enough fog everywhere
to restrict the zoom on my camera
and a dreamy duck edges along the rippled water.
This part of our day won't need a wallet, I imagine,
unless we stop for ice cream or something.
Well, I suppose
everyone has a right
Silent night—put more bricks on the fire
tonight is the final night
when the snow owl flies—so light up your pipe
you're frozen to the core
you wise old man
owlish in all your ways
swallow your pride
smell the delight of the winter night
don't you hide
throw chalky bricks on the fire
and light your pipe
it's warm inside.
(Previously appeared in Boston Poetry Magazine - May 24, 2013)
Bio: Mark Nenadov is a poet from Essex, Ontario, Canada. He lives with his lovely wife and their baby daughter. Mark's poems have appeared in publications in the United States, Canada, and Ireland. He also has a poem in the Whisky Sour City anthology recently published by Black Moss Press. See http://www.marknenadov.com for more details.
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