Surging dolphins.
Ospreys carrying dinner.
Fried shrimp picnics on the banks of a bayou.
Box turtles crossing the yard.
Tree frogs on the window pane.
Corn snakes in the squash.
The size of grasshoppers.
How tall my basil grows.
The end of summer.
And the Make America Green Again
bumper sticker I saw yesterday
on a car whose driver I’d pay to meet.
Her eyes are clouding with age,
and when she peers at my face,
I see confusion in hers:
How do I appear to her now?
All I can do is lean forward
and kiss that small patch of white
just above and between her eyes,
the star she was given by a god
who foretold this moment.
She bows her head slightly,
allowing my reverence,
knowing her worth
all at once.
I wish to thank D. Ellis Phelps, editor of the new anthology Purifying Wind, “an anthology of poetry to honor the vulture, many species of which are declining or in danger. Book represents the work of forty-three poets from six countries, many of whom are prize winning and Pushcart nominees. Poems enter the realm of many subjects including wonder, desire, love, aging, memoir, death and birth, and the natural world, to name a few. ”
I am delighted to have my poem “The Natural Order” included in this inspiring collection. Here is a video of me reading the poem. You may watch others authors reading their work on the Purifying Wind page on Amazon.
Hello again. Time to post a few more pictures. These are all done in acrylics and on natural wood, mainly pine. You can check out our Etsy site to learn more. Art is how we how we come together, and how, in these strange times, we heal.
Greatness
An osprey dives over and over,
as many times as it takes to stay alive
and become incidentally superb.
Driving down the road near my house
I see them flying, a stunned fish in their claws,
as if nothing could be more ordinary
than a bird bringing home dinner.
Wings or brains,
we work with what we have.
I can’t snatch a meal from the ocean
at 50 miles an hour,
but I can plant a garden,
make stories out of thin air,
learn the difference
between an aspen and an alder.
Minute by minute,
even I can be splendid.
Past Lives
Sometimes they are not dead.
Sometimes they just live far away,
and even if you stopped by for a visit
what words would persuade them
of your betterment, the worth
you finally achieved?
What could they do but listen and nod,
knowing what they know?
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If you’re in the mood for some spirit-lifting literature this holiday season, please consider the new Poems For Peace anthology, The Larger Geometry. Three of my poems are featured, along with wonderful work by many others. There is some serious talent here, at a time when we need it most. Wishing everyone a peaceful holiday season.
Main Street Rag has just published Of Burgers and Barrooms, an extraordinary collection of poetry and prose featuring bars and fast food restaurants. My story “The Side Bar” is included in this publication, and I am deeply grateful. Provocative, humorous, edifying, delightful, this anthology has something for everyone. A great gift for writers and readers!
From the website: Main Street Rag Publishing Company has been publishing our print magazine, The Main Street Rag, uninterrupted since 1996. Among its features are poetry, short fiction, photography, essays, interviews, reviews, and commentary. Subscription information is available on the Submissions page and can be placed online at: Subscriptions. Current and back issue information–including who appears in each issue–can now be found at The MSR Online Bookstore on the back and current issues page. Our magazine is financed through subscriptions, direct sales and shelf sales. We receive no money in the form of grants or public funds. Reader support is important and necessary.
I love this poem by Ted Kooser. It is among the many poignant “postcards” in his collection WINTER MORNING WALKS: one hundred postcards to Jim Harrison.
Fate, here I stand, hat in hand,
in my fifty-ninth year,
a man of able body and a merry spirit.
I’ll take whatever work you have.
“So it is if the heart has devoted itself to love, there is not a single inch of emptiness. Gladness gleams all the way to the grave.”
— from “Honey Locust” by Mary Oliver
Photo credit: goingslo / Foter / CC BY-NC-ND
Jean Ryan 