Cannot be content with cardinal,
With chickadee, mockingbird, and woodpecker,
Cannot be content with what naturally seeks you
Or at least what appears naturally around you. Continue reading “Flamingo in Forsythia”
Author: ROMPoetry
Sale Barn
When we moved to town, we were in walking distance
Of the sale barn, the place of cardboard boxes
Full of stuffed animals, cattle for auction, popsicles,
Rows of tin sheds full of okra, corn and blackberries, overalls,
Blackened cooking pots and strange tools like rusted weapons. Continue reading “Sale Barn”
Poetic Vandalism
Ken and I just spent the weekend at Beavers Bend State Park, and we stayed in cabin 4. The cabin was small and cozy with a fireplace and good heat. It was a bit chilly, though just fine for hiking weather. We went on some trails, searched for a few geocaches, and enjoyed the park’s natural beauty and silence. Continue reading “Poetic Vandalism”
Convolutions of Calves’ Brains
“Normally this formation weathers out along high, narrow, and short ridges that in airplane view resemble the convolutions of calves’ brains.”
–Oklahoma Geological Survey, Beavers Bend State Park Guide Book XI, 1963
The Choctaw knew this land,
Knew the way it could be lived on,
The way it could be wasted
–as a kill is wasted for sport
–as a life is wasted, as is the tree, as is the heart. Continue reading “Convolutions of Calves’ Brains”
Almost, Almost
We wait for the crabgrass and dandelions and wild onion
To shuffle aside the fall leaves, our feet crunching
What has died, our attention focused on sun and wind,
The beauty of not-yet-spring, oh but almost, almost. Continue reading “Almost, Almost”
Mordred
I opened the gate, walked into the garden
Rust flaked off in my hands
Sifting the dust
To put out the air
Squeeze my eyes shut to open to
Statues
Angel wings, a maiden
This urn
I smelled it from the garden gate Continue reading “Mordred”