Of Sepia and Saffron

Waking up, I fiddle with the remote.
Television feeds me emptiness
via satellites. The weather girl
in her sexy white dress tells me
it's cold - will snow along I-275.
She moves from coast to coast
with the assiduity of an albatross.
I miss the buzz and put Trane
to thoughts - jazz is like floating
on clouds in clear blue sky.
Roses I planted last spring
lie shrouded - defeated by snow
from heaven. How powerless I am!
Through the haze I see
when I was seven:
I chased butterflies and rainbows;
there were many picnics then.
I enjoyed runs along the creek
with limited friendship.
There were neither battles to win
nor immortality to achieve -
there was joy in abundance
which drowned me and now,
it's wine in ornamental chalice.
Yes, wine in ornamental chalice!