We Have Bees
We have bees–
or rather the bees have us.
Thrumming, humming,
like a pulse drumming
inside the skeletal walls
of this decaying crib.
Unlike Herculean Samson,
I will not
reach in to steal away
their golden lifeblood.
I will not
selfish seek to sweeten my life.
For they, by choosing us,
move life
from flower to flower.
THE CLEMATIS
The poor thing,
she needed to be moved.
In my absence
she was transplanted–
efficiently enough–
to a wind-buffeted southwest corner.
Staked and sturdied and twined,
barely blossomed,
tiny tendrils grasped for anything.
And so I found her
and loosened what held her upright.
She fell forward–
so oddly yet almost instinctively
like a child upon my shoulder.
My response,
“Oh, sweet plant!
I’m here to help you.”
And she rested there
and I thought I heard
a sigh.
A Pleasant Surprise
It is always a pleasant surprise–
like finding money in your pocket
or
nabbing the last popsicle
in the box–
that you uncover a nest
of ladybugs
red, polka dotted and
tumbling out into the
spring garden.
They are as surprised
as I.
THOUGHTS
I snatch at my thoughts
like a child with a net
chasing butterflies.
Though I capture one,
pinning it down
to gently wrestle with it,
two,
three,
four others
flit about just out of reach
more provoking
more distracting
than the one I now
hold.
Marmalade
Marmalade,
my old, faithful cat
lies at my feet
curled around herself.
Like a rug
washed too many times,
she is patchy
and frayed
and thinning.
She no longer gives service
for catching mice
or for kittenly entertainment,
but like any good dog,
she is a cat of
loyalty
and presence
and enduring love.
Because writing time has been at a premium lately, I’m posting a recently written poem. As we here in the Midwest impatiently wait for spring, the gathering of eagles near open water and the flight of swans makes things bearable and gives us hope.
SWANS
written Friday, March 4, 2022
Two pair of swans,
couples,
flying swiftly
to the northeast
as if sprung from a bow
arrow straight.
Me
below them
limited by where the asphalt
could take me
wished to reach up
to fly away with them
free of roads
free of fences
free of my own
expectations.
Waiting Rooms
–written Wednesday, Mar. 2, 2022
The waiting rooms I’ve sat in–
hours upon hours
upon vinyl
upon cloth
upon pins and needles
to hear words of truth
according to
the bible of medicine
from the disciples of healing.
My future placed
under a cold
metal disc–
listening
listening
for tomorrow.
SNAPSHOTS
–written Monday, Feb. 28, 2022
Like a small child,
weaving together a story
simply by looking at the pictures,
I, too, create my life
in pictures.
Full scenes,
simple snapshots,
dim black and whites
roll through my mind
like a shuddering movie projector.
All reminding me
of the pieces
that are me.
Inspired by Jane Yolen's a-poem-a-day writing discipline and butt-in-chair mantra, I'm loosely attempting my own a-few-poems-a-week regimen. These are lightly edited or perhaps not edited at all with the date included to keep me honest. By the way, if you don't know who Jane Yolen is you should. Her writing is delightful. Go find her. Read her stuff.
February Walk
–Written Monday, February 21, 2022
Yesterday, I timidly stepped
into the end of February
and out of doors.
Tugged by gentle winds
that lifted the cornhusks
like large moths,
I layered on my own warmth
only to find
it was too much.
I tied my sweatshirt around my waist and
waded into the sunshine.
The black asphalt trail,
a snow-melt river,
where cyclists dodged about
liked wheeled water bugs.
–Written Monday, February 21, 202
What follows is a fun, little rendition of Clement Moore’s ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. It’s also my latest writing challenge for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Holiday Helper story contest. If you have any interest in writing for children (or just want to read a fun blog), hop on over to Susanna’s blog. Many thanks also go to the judges and wonderful prize contributors in this contest. And to any co-contestants: best of luck! I’ve already read so many good entries! Aren’t these contests great? Now on to the story!
Noteven the Mouse (216 words)
‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
the humans were sleeping, but Noteven, the mouse,
was just winding up for a night on the town.
The cookies were out!
There were crumbs all around!
When what to his wondering ears should he hear?
A clumping!
A thumping!
A ker-flumping–
“Oh dear!”
Away to the chimney, he dashed to the flue.
Noteven, the mouse, was wondering, “Who–
is there in the chimney and blocking the way
of Santa’s arrival with gifts the next day!”
To the top of the hearth–
to the top of the log–
Noteven the mouse skipped a jiggety-jog.
He peered up the chimney and to his surprise–
peering back down were two dark, twinkling eyes!
“I’m stuck!” whispered Santa. “My jacket is caught!
I’m hooked on a nail, and I’m in a tight spot!”
Noteven the mouse, well, he went straight to work.
He nibbled. . .
He gnawed. . .
And then with a JERK–
“Oh! Ho, ho, ho–hoooo!”
Santa bellowed with glee
and tumbled right out to land under the tree.
Noteven the mouse scampered straight to his side,
but the jolly, old elf grinned a smile big and wide.
“I thank you, Noteven, for helping me out.
That small act of kindness is what it’s about.”
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