the harpy is said to
have seven skins
what we bring-
we destroy.
precocious
cold open blue
covers the sky.
frost filled earth
meets her here
all the
time.
Blind spot warning
Lane departure warning
Rear collision mitigation
Front collision mitigation
Back-up camera
Seat restraints
Child locks
Traction control
Ignition disable
Driver needed?
Nature’s magnificence arrests and astounds.
I, the average onlooker, observe a red maple sapling sprouting scarlet leaves
while an ordinary day’s sunset– primitive by comparison– paints hues of crimson that compliment the fledgling foliage.
My sharp eye spots this contrasting correlation.
I sip garnet liquid– from fresh grapes nonetheless– and consider our world’s fragile balance
in pieces
like scattered rubies buried along bleeding mountains whose extinction rests in the breeze beneath a radiance of cardinals’ wings.
Three Wishes
I wish I had a summer
as long as summers used to be,
when I was just a little girl
and all summers were long.
I wish I had a cake as good
as cakes used to be,
when I was just a little girl
and all cakes were good.
I wish I had a hug
to heal the hurts and dry the tears.
When I was just a little girl,
that’s what hugs would do.
A dark form floated near the bottom of the dishpan
My hand moved to retrieve it
For a wipe and a quick rinse
Before emptying the pan from the night before.
When I looked closer in disbelief,
The thin curved line behind the small dark form
Assured me.
Where will deeper take me?
My mother would say, “You left your dishwater overnight?”
My daughter would say, “Mom, why don’t you get a dishwasher?”
My granddaughter would say,
“Grannie, you’ve got to take better care of your visitors.”
And deeper?
My mother, that fifties stay at home mom,
Her house always straightened
And left in good shape at night,
So, morning was not a reminder of
Things left undone
But a welcome to a new day.
My daughter,
That modern woman who does it all,
A full-time job, three kids, a dog and a cat,
But with the help of the latest
Appliances and gadgets
And a modern husband.
My granddaughter, the latest edition,
Looking forward to graduate school
A profession and a family
With time left over to be vegan
And to think about the finer points
Of ethics and responsibility
For not only preserving earth
But keeping even its smallest inhabitants extant.
And I?
It happens, and I try to understand it
By writing about it.
The wind keens at my back,
a vibration in my ribs
A true yogi juggles chainsaws
during rush hour in a turn lane
on Nicholasville Road and remains:
* high as Mount Rushmore
* grounded as Death Valley
* gentle as a kitten’s whiskers
But how can motion be motionless?
Why would a flame not flicker?
Some say it’s muscle management.
Others say it’s the actual picnic basket.
A trip to the library nets a bounty of books
Tucked awkwardly ‘neath my baby’s teenage arm,
An overflowing canvas bag burping
A couple dozen straining spines and corners.
Arriving home, the stacks comes out
To teeter invitingly on the couch
Between a pair of giggling, guessing bibliophiles.
They display a title, I try to divine the plot,
Judge the book by its cover,
Laugh and clap when I hit the mark,
Take note of the ones I want to sneak to my own TBR.
My son scoffs as he passes through
On his latest kitchen rummaging trip.
But, drawn in to our web of words,
Lurks and attends, can’t resist joining in,
Tossing out his own speculation
To dovetail onto mine,
Lingering to learn if he’s right.
Psaphonise
(paths, forward)
Such birds,
taught the sounds
of your name,
sing your way forward,
towards a horizon
of fame;
They flutter, these mimics,
on winds of the world,
from east to south
to north to west
and only when time has come
– when your song, so lovingly sung –
will these feathers,
such stalwarts of sun,
settle in for a weary rest
as each day is done
Inspired by an exploration of the word in The Cabinet of Calm (Soothing Words for a Troubled World) by Paul Anthony Jones
