Chasing Childhood

The call of a locust
In late summer,
Lazy days of freedom
Begin to pall,
Lay in the drying grass
Scratchy on my legs,
Heat of sun on my back,
Watch butterflies dance
In twos and threes
Over a field
Shot with wildflowers.
Sweet smell of
Indian Paintbrush,
Softness of bristles
Tickle my nose.
The threat of a bee
Lured by the sweetness
Brings a moment of alert
To the easy, floating
Bubble of my being.

Late June Conversation

Black raspberries ready,
for dessert tonight, a cobbler.
At the tip top of the pear tree
Cardinal couple commiserate
on scarcity of bugs, little ones
flown the nest and coming rain.
Fireworks at the lake this weekend
shall we go and take a blanket?
A dance at the concert
in Municipal Park to the music
of a visiting polka band? You
can sport the vest I made, I’ll
wear the red sundress you like.
We’ll dream by the watch fire
of local soldiers who came home
to their families safe and sound.

Dreaming Still

I walk through green
After days of rain,
Cross a small bridge
Over a little creek
With glints of gold sun
On rocks of brown moss.
I am nine, behind
The farm house where
We lived beside the creek.
I’d squat, small butt hung
Behind my folded legs,
Bare feet set in the cool clear
Water, watching for a tell tale
Flicker of antennae or pincer.
I’d grab the sectioned middle
Of the crayfish between
Thumb and forefinger, slip
Him in the mayo jar to sell
To the city men for fish bait.
Oh, the dreams I dreamed
In this sun dappled glade
Below the waving trees,
Of faraway places out of
Books or perhaps, a prince,
With eyes the color of
Sunlight on a country creek,
To walk alongside.

Remember Our Garden

We made a raised one,
Carefully set chicken wire
Below to keep out
Burrowing borrowers,
Enclosed the upside
With the same stuff.
The couple uphill were
Entertained all summer
Watching woodchucks
Munch the squash,
How they so ingeniously
Found ways around
Our brave barriers.
Then the funny
Little milk carton collars
We placed around
The baby cucumber plants
To keep out cutworms.
Marigolds and saucers
Of beer for the slugs.
It was no use, we share
Their space and so
They shared our bounty.

For Lena

A lady with attitude
And a voice like
Warm smooth chocolate
Caressed each note
Loved the words
Laughed at life
Not always pleasant
Ever worthwhile
Empowered the womanhood
Of so very many who
Walked behind her
Gladly grateful.

Avatar

I did not think that you could ever die

Or I could ever live without you

I see the hawk above me now

Every where I go and know

That you did not really die

And I am really not alone.
　
　

St. Petersburg Zoo

The monkey cackles from the tree tops,
at the crowd waiting below, like in a zoo,
but what a zoo this is without the walls
and free to roam the suburbs of St. Pete,
as he’s done happily for months.
Every now and then, just for him, a show.
Below, Moms and Dads and kids
and closer by the guys and gals with bright
yellow signs on dark blue jackets,
with guns of sleepy shots meant for the
elusive Rhesus in the trees .
(They are the funniest of all,
so full of their own importance).
Every monkey should have
the pleasure of such a zoo.