August 2017
Robert K. Johnson
choirofday@cs.com
Born in New York City (in Elmhurst), I lived in several different places there but have memories only of The Bronx (off Fordham Road). Then my family moved out "on The Island"—to Lynbrook, where we stayed till I graduated from Hofstra (then a College). Several years after my wife, Pat, and I married, we, plus our two children, settled in the Boston area and have remained there (except for my daughter, Kate, who has lived in Manhattan for quite a while). I have been writing poetry since I was twelve (many moons ago).

A Bad Dream


The cat stays hunkered down
on the footstool next
to the downstairs chair

I hurried to.
She lifts her head
               toward me,

her eyes puzzled
that long past midnight
I huddle here

               and stroke
her upraised chin,
my only anchor.

previously published in SARASVATI



Autumn Nocturne


The hundreds
of fallen leaves
scattered patternless

                    on top of
the lawns' buried grass
are not inert waste;

free of the earlier
autumn days'
gaudy razzle-dazzle

and spread out now
in soft reds and yellows
quiet as mist,

their beauty offers
the final truth
about all living things.

previously published in SARASVATI
©2017 Robert K. Johnson
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