Bruce McGuffin


My Winter Love

My winter love, she fills my heart with light.
As planet to her sun I circle round.
I long to take her in my arms tonight
And speak to her of love that knows no bound.
But when I dare approach her fulgent glow
Her muted smile betokens love untold—
A summer love that sleeps beneath the snow.
“Back off,” she says to me, “your hands are cold.”

Gnu England

When a gnu in New England becomes an old gnu
It gets grumpy and grim, but it knows what to do.
That old cold gnu’s craving a setting more torrid.
It moves down to Florida and becomes florid.

Why It’s Important To Take Your Saxophone Hiking

Whenever I go for a walk in the wood
I carry a saxophone, everyone should—
You need it in case you get caught unawares
By a band of unruly and ravenous bears.

When the bears leap from bushes intending to eat you,
You won’t have the time that it takes to retreat—you
Had better be ready to pull out your sax
If you don’t want to finish your day as bear snacks.

Play a song they can dance to, try Latin or swing.
Dancing bears like to rhumba, they might highland fling.
But beware, every bear is a dance epicure.
If you play Macarena they’ll eat you for sure.

Bruce McGuffin has been writing light poetry for years, despite the long-ago urgings of his high school English teacher to give it up. His poetry has appeared in Light, Lighten Up Online, and other journals. He divides his time between Lexington, MA, where he has a job, and Antrim, NH, where he fritters away his time writing poetry and playing the saxophone.