Winter Backyard

The Bull snake, in the hole beneath 
the junipers's feet, thinks of the lady who
gestured to him on a spring day,
to go down the slope before her;
he moved aside, startled, to let her go 
down the slope; she insisted he go first;
oh, such a civility of her;
would it live even in the winter?

The rabbites empty burrow under
the porch, after the neighbor's dog
chased them away to the bog;

the Russian olive tree that spies the neighbor,
with a bough hanging over the fence;

now, they all watch the snowflakes in silence;
how harmonious they look in a glance. 

© Byung A. Fallgren

At the Vein Specialist's Office

"Do you do those things?" the nurse asked.
"Do what?" I said.
"Nevermind," she said. "Just respect us."

Case of  rude patients problem. I smiled. "Respecting
the respectable people is my name."
"Put on only undie, wear the gown, and lie on the table." her
voice was windy. Case of rude nurse. I sighed for the missing Please. 
But quickly dismissed it; I was more concerned of the dreadful
pain I was about to face.

I recalled the receptionist's caution: "Wear a thick diaper. the pain
will shock you." So I did as instructed. 
The pain. The thick diaper. Goosebumps shooting out on
my varicose-veined leg. I took a deep breath. After removing
the problemetic vein, I will be free of pain. 

A young doctor in his white gown came in. And stood close
to my table and stared at me in the gown and the senior diaper,
the poor leg waiting for surgery. 
"Oh, sooo cute," he said. "I want to hug and writhe on the bed.
She's just like my mom." His eyes lingered some more.
I removed the facial mask, and told him, "I know I am incredible 
shrunken old lady. Please start and get it over with the surgery."

"Oh, sure," he said. "I was thinking how the vein should be 
removed; cut at the low end, and then the upper thigh one.
Before that, this and that should be done."
I shuddered. 

What seemed hours later, the surgery was over. 
I was genuinly thankful for his ardent effort. 
"Thanks, doc. The pain is less thatn I feared."

"Good to hear it," he said. And quickly left the room.
Quicker than I wanted him to be. 

©Byung A. Fallgren

AI Bird in the Morning

Like an old lady's hair,
the sky is gray,
even the birds are hiding.
When the insomniac writhes
in the bed with winter gloom,
a sudden bird sings in the room,
lifting the mood.
It sings again.
No bird, but a broken alarm,
chrirp, chirp. such a preety voice,
as if to say, Happy Thanksgiving!

© Byung A. Fallgren

She Wishes to be in the Wall

When teenager, she flew round the univerce,
charmed by the stars that fill her heart with
colorful dreams with bright patterns;
when twenties, she moved to the city where
her beloved dream, the fragile fledging nests;
she would not leave her side, even the
handsome lover has no power to keep her;
when thirties, and beyond, she is alone, but
enjoys to be with her dream, the true love;
sixties come around, to remind her to be
unshaken, with no tears, which only makes
her to love the furrows and loose fleshes,
within and without;
pushing seventy, she knows the only place she
would go to is in the wall, the silent and lofty wall,
to be with the other lonly, yet proud souls. 

©Byung A. Fallgren