Gra(ce)zing

Gra(ce)zing

I slip my index finger gently
around the neck of Queen Anne's Lace
or Dandelion
where stalk meets soil;
my other fingers
support the coil,
twist and pull.
The weed slides out easily
and if I was an elephant
harvesting roots
with the finger at the end of my trunk
my next step would be
to feed it into my mouth and chew
while methodically reaching out
for the next weedy neck.
Wind the Finger.
Gently Pull.
Raise to Mouth....

The sun beats down upon my back.
I am hot;
covered in dust.
I am surrounded by
people I love
who work nearby
and smell of heat and soil.

I hold the moment firmly,
give it a gently twist
and savor the juiciness.
My mouth waters
and then my eyes.

Sunstar on the Prowl

Words elude me.

Like a sunstar on the move
I will find those words if it's the last thing I --
I feel around the sandy bottom
identifying everything as I go
reading with every hungry tentacle:
anemone, coral, kelp, seastar flying away, clam too,
rock, more rock, a hiding fish in the crevice and no time to trap it.
Where are the Words?!
Geez, I hope they're not with my missing sock that disappeared from the laundry.
Although wet wrinkled words are better than none at all.
Words! Words! How I yearn for you!
Consumed with the hunt
I spread my sensitive tendril-fingers in all directions
searching....
Are there enough bon mots in the ocean? Never!
Insatiable Word Predator.

Being Cedar

Being Cedar

I want you to understand
that I am cedar:
sweet-scented, standing tall,
gentle fingers dance with breezes.
I breathe in what you exhale.

I am the smell of wool sock drawers,
my heart lies open on your hard-wood floors.

Evergreen Celebrate Spring

Sometimes it seems like only the deciduous trees really get to party when spring arrives, so I thought the Doug Firs and their ilk deserved a poem for Most Overlooked Spring Celebrants.


Evergreens Celebrate Spring

Wind stirs in the firs
convincing them
to let go the husks they wear
into the air - .
Released
the brown wrappers twirl away
unveiling
fir tree tips
like fingernails
painted punk green
and dangling casually
for everyone to admire.

(A contrast to the stately green
conservative color,
worn for everyday,
year-round display.)

Seized with fellowship
I lacquer my nails:
Extreme Green.

Here's one from earlier this year:

She Talks to Hummingbirds

My heart led me to Guatemala
to find you, mi amor, a missing piece of myself
like all daughters.
My new baby
everywhere we go
hummingbirds check in on you, whirring inquisitively
sent from the homeland like you
to this cold and dreary gray climate
wondering if I raised you right.
When you are inside,
they hover at the windows
until they find you and can make their report.
I always wave and hold you up
so you can see each other.
My hummingbird, you dance and chatter
your way through a meal -
you, who are quick to see the insult, take offense,
intercept it midflight
and bravely belligerently
stand between accuser and accused.
My tiny lawyer-hero
ready to right injustices everywhere.
Please do not sip
from the feeder of self-sacrifice,
I know you are tougher than any jaguar
you don't have to go nose-to-nose with them all.
I wish for you: a life of honeysuckle, bee balm,
and all the passion flowers you pursue.

Mother Spider

Stretching as far as I am able
I reach for the outermost sticky cable
with more line
to patch the tear
but from this angle I can see
more irregular holes in the shimmer:
I keep working steadily.
I keep my balance.

"I am in Repairs."
I say when asked for my occupation;
deftly tying another invisible bow
feeling around for the next thread in the pattern.
While, at the same time,
using another couple of hands to type at the computer
or hoe the soil,
or hug you tight.
My tangible contributions
to mending the Web.