Category Archives: Poetry

After Ida

Posted on September 10, 2021 by Dale Hobson
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Jigsaw Buddha

Posted on May 12, 2021 by Dale Hobson

When dealing with a puzzle, the inclination is to take it one piece at a time, scanning, sorting, studying minute differences, getting frustrated, then boring back in. Finally, only when the last piece clicks in, do you draw back to … Continue reading →

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Second Spring

Posted on May 8, 2021 by Dale Hobson

Photo: Pixabay It’s hard to start living a larger life again after more than a year of hyper-vigilance. But things are starting to look better, and the return of spring certainly helps. It also helps if you haven’t been in … Continue reading →

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False Spring

Posted on March 26, 2021 by Dale Hobson

What a week – sunshine, shirtsleeves and more on the way. Though we all needed a break from winter, I can’t quite buy in. Veteran of 60+ North Country winters, I know it ain’t over until it’s over, and over … Continue reading →

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In the Winter of Fever

Posted on February 3, 2021 by Dale Hobson

We catapulted 2020 over the moat and into the dungheap of history only to discover 2021. Another year of yikes. And incongruously, a winter of stupefying boredom, stymied by the ankle bracelet of COVID. Sigh. In the Winter of Fever … Continue reading →

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Advent 2020

Posted on December 16, 2020 by Dale Hobson

This poem is set on the night of December 8, 2020 after I drove home from the masked and socially distant village with the half moon shining high in my windshield. It took me a while to get it right, … Continue reading →

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Election Reflection

Posted on October 21, 2020 by Dale Hobson

While I was doomscrolling through the day’s news of politics and pandemic, the wind began to rise. I didn’t really notice at first, until I began to mistake it for a distant train passing through the village. Then the “train” … Continue reading →

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Another rainy Monday

Posted on October 19, 2020 by Dale Hobson

As we teeter on the brink of the election and a third peak of the pandemic, it’s the little ordinary things that stubbornly remain ordinary that I find so discombobulating. Given the tumult of event and emotion, there should be … Continue reading →

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Waiting Room

Posted on September 26, 2020 by Dale Hobson

When times are dark and seem to be getting darker, sweet pastoral reflections feel a little disingenuous. Waiting Room Each of these lines contains five silent prayers, accent falling on the silence. Rhyme scheme is irregular as nothing is similar … Continue reading →

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In the Summer of Fever

Posted on September 8, 2020 by Dale Hobson

When I wrote “In the Spring of Fever,” I hoped that one season would do it. Alas. This poem came to me out of the weird congruence between such a beautiful summer and the grinding fear and anxiety of a … Continue reading →

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