May 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).

​ARIZONA: SUMMER, 1954

​
Late evening
along a minor state highway,
my father and I roll to a stop
amid miles of open land;
because I did all the driving,
my father cooks dinner
on our Coleman stove.

When I finish eating
I lie on my back
under my army cot's blanket
and, staring straight up,      

                                 I see
an immensity of sky
crammed with glittering stars
beyond number

and though Heaven may not exist,
I know
            this does.

previously published in ABBEY



SUDDEN MOODS


When the mood that takes me
is not like a friend
but like some haggard man
who drops into a chair
at my restaurant table and tells me
every single worry depressing him,

I no longer want to be
at the mercy of sudden moods.
                                 But then,
at other times, I sit in my study,
worn out, dispirited,

and a different mood— 
her hair combed with care,
her dress a lovely patterned caftan— 
glides through the shadows,
bends close to give my lips
a moment's kiss and, smiling,
settles in a chair near me,
now no longer tired.

previously published in REACH POETRY
©2017 Robert K. Johnson
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