My husband is on Facebook now.
He shares pictures of kittens
with me
and shows me posts with
funny tee shirts
and dad jokes.
This is rather like
watching a
prong-horned antelope
having high tea
or a construction worker
using doilies on the handles
of his jack hammer
Not wrong, exactly,
just very…
unexpected
Yesterday I saw
that the deer
who comes through the yard
stopped and snacked on
my hosta
leaving nothing but the
central vein of
each leaf, which,
I have learned
is called the rachis
just these
rachises sticking up
where each delicious
blue-green leaf had been
Now the “blue angel”
is nothing
but a cluster of spikes,
unappetizing bits
to a deer
That’s the price
I suppose
for building my home
so close to hers
Photo by Mary Bach
Once when I walked
through town.
People were busy living.
Streets were filled with cars,
sidewalks dotted with people.
Everyone was on the way
to somewhere else
Except for me.
I was just walking
and watching
Now, an occasional car
slips past,
sidewalks are empty.
The people are gone
except for me.
I’m just walking
and watching
This is for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 at Verse Escape.
There is no
Officer Friendly
in George’s neighborhood.
And
violence,
non-violence,
neither has worked.
Gandhi would be dismayed.
How can MLK RIP
with his dream
still such a long way off?
WTF?
Does our hope
for justice
reside
in a video camera
that shows the horror of
ourselves
to ourselves
in a world on fire?
RIP Mr. Floyd
This is for Hedgewitch’s Friday 55 at Verse Escape.
Sometimes
a walk in the woods
is just a walk
Sometimes it is an exploration
of scientific discovery
Sometimes it is a search for beauty
a walk filled with wonder
Sometimes it is a renewal,
a refreshing of body and spirit
Sometimes it is a hero’s journey,
an archetypal quest
Sometimes it is a forgetting,
a dropping away of the world
Sometimes it is therapy;
sometimes a meditation, or a prayer
Perhaps, after all,
a walk in the woods
is never just a walk in the woods
April bows out
leaving so prettily
though yesterday
was rainy, cold and gray
birdsong
starts this day,
insects flit and buzz everywhere,
and the pigeons low cooing
continues until dusk
Sun and wind and greening grass,
clean smell of growing things
and freshly turned earth
promise gardens of delight
to come
The flowers of May
the fruits of June
and August’s bounty
drying, dying into autumn
We made it! Congratulations to everyone who wrote 30 poems in 30 days during the month of April! Well done, you!
Under my tongue
sits the world,
dissolving
slipping down
the back
of my throat
I can feel it
growing
within me
oceans roll
through my veins
leaves sprout
from my fingertips
deserts and prairies
bloom in my eyes
and we are radiant
What secrets
have we forgotten
that we learned from the trees
What lessons
have the winds taught
that we no longer recall
Have the moon and the seas
stopped speaking to us
or have we just stopped listening
I live my life in a fishbowl
looking out at a world
that doesn’t bother
looking back at me.
My only privacy
is your indifference
This painting, “The Sea Inside” by Samy Charnine, was the writing prompt at The Sunday Muse. It’s already Monday, but you can still click on the link and check it out.
I love the feeling I get
sitting in the early morning dark
just before the sun comes up
this time is precious
to me
fleeting
dark and silent
my secret time, alone
except for my dog
and my thoughts
before I have
to face the day
the world
the sun
