Thursday, March 12, 2020

Various poems and spring photos

Sis Carolyn's photo



HAIKU

the clear creek’s coldness

rustling over gravel bar

a sassafras leaf
~ ~ ~ ~

the scent of kudzu

along the walking trail

a pair of redbirds
~ ~ ~ ~



A GLOSS ON THIRTEEN



The white-haired woman

way older than 13

 ---seven decades older--schleps

book bag and computer valise

with one hand, pulls

herself forward with the other that holds

onto the railing, up

13 wooden steps

to the landing; she rests a beat,

takes 13 more steps to the main floor,

rests another beat, then shifts bags

to one-per-hand, walks

13 steps to Number Three, tries

13 keys before one fits. In her room––

newly-decorated—she counts 13

Safari-themed artifacts:

framed prints, wall hanging,

statuette, candles,

desk lamp with elephant base.



She was the first of 13 siblings.

When hepatitis surged through

the family, the doctor visited

13 times in as many days.



 She’s lived in 13 rent houses,

Thirteen new homes now abide

on the once-family-owned hayfield.

Thirteen pieces of cobalt blue

glass shine from her south windows.

She was born on the 13.th Perhaps

when she dies the family will wait

till the next 13th rolls around to

see her buried.

[PUBLISHED IN 2019 MSPS GRIST] 






c PL, dba lovepat press, Benton AR USA