Bird Below

White bird
circling high
above the valley
weaves a bouquet of
mountains together
below me



Waimea Canyon, Kauai. November 2010

Playground for Light

End of season fluff 

used to be harvested

by tribal prairie people

for diaper filling 

and women's flow.

 Bed mats too, softening 

sleep on earthen floors.

Soft cotton free and plentiful.

Disposable?

 Recyclable? 

Renewable?

Back then? 

Farmers hate it like 

gardeners hate dandelions.

 One strong gust spreads 

millions of floating seeds waiting

to root. Blackbirds roost and 

nest in cattail marshes before

deciding to strip a field of 

sunflower seeds. 

"But wait, please don't kill the cattails" ~ I pled.

My first firefly show

happened here

long ago. 

The glow of it

 has yet to dim. 

Gallant Loverby 

got wet catching

one buzzing light ~

a love trophy for 

me, his new bride.

Captured magic 

~love's light~

magnified in 

a mason jar. 

This fall, Loverby stopped to let me take a picture at a thriving cattail colony in the slough. It was still there in spite of planes spraying for complete eradication all those years ago. I had gone crazy when I realized they were systematically trying to rid the prairie of magical places where fireflies played. When I came stumbling into the house sobbing because the planes were spraying overhead with a vengeance - my mother in law held me and cried with me. She explained that the blackbirds came in hoards like locusts and cleaned out the sunflower fields. The cattail sloughs were their breeding ground. They would have no harvest to harvest if something wasn't done. I hated not being able to offer an alternative.

I was an idealistic young woman raging against the destruction of the place where cotton batting grew free, and light played and lived.

 I still don't notice blackbirds. 

Cellar Remains

  

Playmates won't slide down this cellar 

door. It is gone like the house above. 

Rocks split on the grain 

were dry stacked flush 

by hard hands.

 An artist holding hammer 

and chisel raised the puzzle 

one row at a time. 

Small rocks 

fill empty spaces

 between 

big ones balancing careful 

until corners meet 

woven and strong. 

This cool dark hole 

preserved harvest well

until the long winter was done.

Homestead wives 

went down stairs outside 

to the store around 

   the corner  

      underneath 

         their porch. 

Barefoot Heart

Comes a time 

a wintery time

between summers 

when my 

earth widened  

sun browned 

barefoot heart

has to squish 

expansive parts

unwillingly

back inside

uncomfortable 

tight spots 

constrained by 

framed by 

culture

no air cleansing 

no water cooling 

no sand tickling 

earthiness

no circles

only rows

no love feasts warm

celebrating at the table 

of friends

only

clacking plastic  

grating against shiny

metal holes passed somber 

with 

baskets of crumbs

dead and dry and tasteless

unable to breathe 

or wriggle free

monstrous waves 

of panting panic

attack 

until ties are loosened 

buckles unfastened

restraints kicked 

off and away toward 

the preferred 

expanse 

of summertime's

intended 

green  

freedom

where 

no blisters rub

my barefoot heart

raw

Maureen encouraged me to join in the fun happening over at One Stop Poetry's One Shot Wednesday. Even though I feel quite shy about it, playing with others and learning from them is good. Poetry only recently found me. I'm most thankful. 

Spent

After blossom is gone, 

  delicate bones remain. 

Evergreen clematis blooms early. 

Empty pods reminding

me at a glance ~

 what once was 

 might be possible again. 

Fragile skeleton memory.

Finally Barefoot

Clinched around sand
buried deep in pleasure
indulge again child 

remember freedom 

crave it enough
 to shake off pack 

rid care tied heavy
 a breaking burden

trade in for moments
when cool sand
moist at first then dry
tingles

clings
 tickles
 falls away weightless
cleansing debris free and away

nature nurtures a cure
moves upwards from curled toes 

to soften heart
 bend mind
heal soul

Never underestimate the power of something as simple as sand between your toes. Pedicures are nice, this cure is nicer. Guess how I know? 

This was prompted by Bridget's hilarious post about dual his/her pedicures. I was out at the river barefoot for the first time, horrified at my winter feet and simultaneously delighted anyways, in spite of them. :) 

Driftwood

Driftwood speaks 

a seeing story 

pictures look back 

telling tales of

journeys not chosen

 thrust upon her 

travel such as this

makes

rough edges smooth 

sharp corners round

skin of satin 

she gathered

strength to

float the storm

resilience 

permanently

ingrained

resting while waiting

sometimes looks

as if 

beached

it is not so-

take her home

a treasure 
now wanted
the story 

not wasted 

Playing Chase

  

With Cream    

Thick velvet foam

frothy leavings   

churned by a wave

crashing against

solid

buttress of rock

morning latte's

signature topping

proffered gratis 

on the house

generous

talented

barista

Playing Chase 

Spreading over 

 sheet cake 

relic 

left over from

giant 

sand castle

play 

creamy frosting 

comes 

oozing thick towards me

tricking me

soaking me

playing chase

before knowing

 a game had started 

tagged!

looks like

I'm 

it

Will my shadow 

sit or run? 

Sand Dollars

There

is a place

where

sand dollars

are found

resting whole

gently

washed by waves

others wear

broken beauty

still lovely

while

slowly being

crushed

into

sand

Found Joy

What 

I hold in my hand

often brings simple joy

soft edged joy

glistening joy

found joy

before I open

my hand to 

let it go

one last 

caress must

tickle my cheek 

a soft touch 

to

engrave

the memory

stretch 

my heart 

to carry extra 

joy for the desert

places

rations to live

rations to give

                                                                               

Spring at Hand

Pussy willows~ 

like lamplighters 

putting out darkness~

give winter 

the boot

trumpeting

spring

face scrunched 

in surprise

fur mussed

night cap awry

yawning at its

abrupt 

burst 

into tangy air

Flustered Sparkles

The lens in my soul 

caught what I

and my camera

failed to 

Light

skittering

 bouncing

skipping

 dancing 

skimming the surface

with joy and freedom

Flustered tears

made prisms

on the edge

of my eyes

hindering

even more

My heart 

remembers it

clear and crisp

playful as

a newborn calf

leaping 

springing

imagine it 

with me

please try