I lie
Poems buzzing
about my head
Like mosquitoes.
I wait
For them to land,
Pinch them carefully,
Drop them into a
preserving jar of ink,
seal them between
leaves and binding.
I lie,
Free to seek
the peace
of sleep.
poem-gastric catastrophe April 1, 2014
The dog
comes inside,
his belly
mewling like he’s swallowed
a litter of kittens
and their yowling mama.
Is it indigestion,
or did that temptress on the fence
finally fall
into his waiting jowls?
poem-magic mirror March 31, 2014
The lake has captured the sky
reflecting clouds on blue silk,
shore lines doubled,
snow dusted trees, like brushes,
paint mist
suspended half way between reality
in a magic mirror of spring.
poem- wind wise March 29, 2014
She is wind wise
changeable
blowing hot and cold
changing
She murmurs
whispered promises
through trees
and laughs
on ocean waves.
She is still.
She is powerful.
She is wind wise.
poem- home March 28, 2014
Home from the boarding kennel
Dogs drape themselves
on the carpets,
snoozing noisily.
Canine vacation was exhausting, too.
poem- crap! March 27, 2014
T’is the season
snow is melting
that’s the reason
things are smelling
Get the shovel
bag all the crap
shoulder muscles
ache while it splats
into the bag
Excrement is
winter’s last joke:
dog- doo dizzy
I want to choke!
.
Home from vacation and duty calls! Yuck. The back yard melt reveals a lot of mess. Gross.
poems- there be whales here! March 26, 2014
First a tumbling of the waves
then a shot of spray
while the bulk of gray
rises as we watch safely
from two hundred metres away.
.
.
.
Hubby took pity on my whale-less sighting attempts (which were quite pathetic, truly) and booked us a whale watching trip. I saw four clearly. 3 were feeding in a shallow area we couldn’t get too close to, then a 4th was in a really good spot for excellent viewing. We went out and saw a couple of others, but they weren’t as impressive as gray whale 383. I tried to video him, so I may post that if it worked. (Don’t get your hopes up. I tend to think I’m filming when I’m not, and visa versa).
poem- waiting for grey whales March 25, 2014
On shore watching
patiently waiting
for grey whales.
Scanning grey-blue sky
into grey-blue horizon
on grey-blue ocean
searching for a grey puff of breath
a fluke, sign of a whale amid the grey tipped waves.
Staring.
Scanning.
Watching.
Impatiently waiting for grey whales
in the blue-grey ocean
before the blue-grey horizon
under the blue-grey sky.
Staring.
Scanning.
Watching.
Waiting for grey whales
makes me
blue.
.
I’ve wanted to see whales since I read this book as a kid. 3rd trip to the coast during the grey whale migration, and still no sighting.
April 13, 2014. Diana Gabaldon trivia: Fred Phleger, author of the above book, was a professor at Scripps Institution of Oceanography from 1951 to 1977. Diana earned her MS in Marine Biology at Scripps in 1975.
poem- perspective March 24, 2014
Most ferns unfold their fronds
beneath the trees in shady glades.
Along the winding roads
in the Olympic peninsula
ferns view a new perspective,
rooting into the moss
that wraps and drapes the trees.
Instead of remaining on forest floor the fern explore
the sights and sounds high above ground
the wind blown coast
the ocean salt.
Some ferns take advantage of a willing host
to see more of the world.
Their lives may be shorter
and less spread out,
but their perspective is expansive
without a doubt.
.
.
I was astounded to see what I’d call a Boston fern growing all along the roads, from the mossy trunks of all sorts of trees between Forks and Port Angeles* in Washington State. Huge ones were beneath the trees on the shady side of the road, but on the west side of the road, where the moss was thickest on the trees, the same ferns were growing from out of the moss all the way up the trunks. I didn’t see huge established ferns, just single fronds unfurled on the trees, but dozens on each tree. It kind of reminded me of being an exchange student, taking root in a new location, and seeing the world from a different view. 🙂
.
*This is the road that Edward Cullen takes at ridiculous speeds in his Volvo in the Twilight books. Personally, I don’t think even someone with supernatural powers should be driving faster than 60 miles/hr on that road! 😉
poem-offering March 23, 2014
In Latin
holocaustum
means ‘burnt offering.’
In World War 2
the Nazis offered
six million souls
to what god?
What appeasement
did they think
they were buying
at such a cost?
There can be no
atonement with
an artificial
sacrifice.
Shawn L. Bird 