Hard (September)

September is hard. The sums won’t add up. Leave them alone. The statistics are intractable. They tell us just what we don’t want to know. Tell us enough to want some personal space. They are ‘significant’. The numbers are hard, formally addressing the unconscious, indifferent to its response. Braincap is hard. Its joins barely soften with springtime. Unique shape of each face, there as if to challenge science. Hard looks. Hard-wired conversation. Good morning. How are you? Hard facts mingle with terrible puns. You think that? Our energy future is solar and wind. Is that so hard? Blossoms break forth.

Hard (August)

August is hard. The beak of the bird. Ice in window edges. Stones under the cold river. Waking up and getting up. Shell of our house. Switches in half-light. It’s always like this, we tend to forget. Hard roads. Hard eyes. Every brick of this work of nature, our city, hard for a reason. Prospects, plans, news, hard is in there. Hard glasses to read by. Hard zippers against the cold. Temperate is the warm blood of fellow creatures, the possum and kangaroo. The cat curls amidst its warm blanket. Like us. The sun is hard. Clouds are deceptively light.