Surrounded By Cranes

We interrupt the French Revolution for a moment in time.


Standing in my driveway looking left at my neighbor’s house this morning.



Behind my house, joining me for coffee.


And looking right from my driveway as these three seek shade from the oppressive heat and humidity under my oak tree.


Momma would dust the venetian blinds
every Saturday morning
open and close them
with a pull of the cord
watching the world blink
appear, disappear and change
reappearing the same yet slightly different.

Now cranes appear through open blinds
unafraid messengers of a sort
spying from their perch, all stilt and neck;
do they despise us or think we are ugly
thick of leg and round of head
unable to dance?

I have left the city
where people cannot love themselves
to live among the cranes
promenading quietly passed blinded windows
treating me indifferently
as I revel in the accomplishments of quiet.


About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Surrounded By Cranes

  1. beetleypete says:

    I love your Crane poem, Frank. And I can think of a lot worse things to be surrounded by too. 🙂
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

    • toritto says:

      Indeed Pete. This morning I went out to pick up a few necessaries and when I returned home there were probably a dozen cranes surrounding my house. The photos o not depict the same 3 cranes. There were 4 or 5 on either side of my driveway. Unfortunately I could not get them all in the same pic as they refuse to pose for me! Took some shots, went in the house, made a cop of coffee and went out back. There were 4 more back there. Glad you like that poem. Besties from hot humid Florida.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Frank, so glad to see that they feel safe to visit your neighborhood. Is this normal behavior?

    Liked by 1 person

    • toritto says:

      We have always had cranes here – I’ve lived in this house for neigh on 15 years. Behind my house, across the road and a short walk to the right is a great swamp which brings an abundance of wild life. The cranes live here near the water and no one in the neighborhood bothers them. They like my house because I have a tall live oak out front and the cranes seek the shade on really hot days. And I don’t have a dog!

      I have put up pics of the swamp in the past and it can be seen here:


      Liked by 1 person

  3. Maggie says:

    They are noisy little guys. When we lived south of Tampa, we frequently saw them in our yard.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. leggypeggy says:

    How fantastic.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Jennie says:

    Your crane photos are startling for a New Englander. Who wouldn’t want to see a crane in their yard?! So beautiful. And your poem is the best of all. You left the city for peace and quiet, and the cranes were there. Best to you Frank from Massachusetts.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.