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A JAY IN THE CANE by Carol Louise Moon Today, the same as someday, splattered silver drops of spittle line the driveway from my rooftop. I walk with silver cane now easy—steps I take are short because I care. Suddenly a loud bird calls my name, the same loud jay who often chastens me. Someday I'll let him know this house, though short, belongs to me not him—his spittle attitude a spit away from mine. My cane above my head toward rooftop I'll declare "It's mine—the rooftop included, Mr. Dive Bomb"—a loud loud noise I'll make. The bamboo cane in which he likes to hide . . . someday I'll cut it down! With spittle on my palm I'll ax it short. For now these short short days, the chill and ice on rooftop makes me watch for him. The spittle from the roof, the loud loud noise, the flash of blue I miss. Someday he'll fly away from Bamboo Cane. And, meantime, I with cane will walk the yard—the short short distance that it takes. And someday when my rooftop dries, and spring is here aloud with hawks and bees, the spittle in my mouth will dry, as spittle tends to do with age and cane— in-hand—I'll cry aloud: "Don't leave me short, you Dive Bomb bird on our rooftop! You know someday when I am left in spittle in my own short grave, and cane is taller than the rooftop "you will cry aloud, Again, again someday." |
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TAKE A WALK by Kristie Brown Gripp |
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AMARYLLIS AND THE FLICKERS by Carol Louise Moon With my trowel I'm tapping, clumps of soil dropping. I have found my earthworms to transplant in flowering flower beds. I shouldn't waste these precious purple lives, squirming here in sunlight much too bright. Two new flickers light on front yard tree trunk bark, tapping tapping to a purple jazz. One has notified–and one has found the other shouldn't be harassed. Flowering Amaryllis–exhibitionist–flowering naked lady in the spot light now. Fine with her; we shouldn't miss a work of art, a drama queen! Tapping tapping flickers haven't found what they are looking for. Purple– headed finches (a purple of exquisite pink) compete with lady flower. Things in awnings they have found to make a nest in light– blocked blue-gray shade. Now tapping on my windowpane, it shouldn't take too long to choose . . . shouldn't take our purple birds too long to rent a home–if tapping flickers and flowering naked ladies in this violet light are not too decadent. A new found friend, this patient slug, has found a shaded spot that shouldn't be his danger zone. This evening's light reminds me of the winsome "Deep Purple Haze," And there, a sunset–flowering flower that rivals all horizons! I've heard tapping, tapping in my dreams; found all that purple matters should be the flowering rays of light on days of tapping tapping . . .
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ENTER by Kristie Brown Gripp
CRACKING |
by Yuan Changming Between two high notes The song gives a crack Long enough To allow me to enter Like a fish jumping back Into the night water Both the fish and I leave no Trace behind us, and the world Remains undisturbed as we swim Deeper and deeper in blue silence Upon my return, I find the music Still going on, while the fish has Disappeared into the unknown |
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