Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Not a Poem (maybe)

The August 2nd poems - Jade's and mine . . .

- Jade DeFehr

This is not a poem!
participating in the following actions
is . . .
Step outside –
it doesn’t matter
you are, so long
as you really are
Think about the doorstep.
Walk around the block,
trying to concentrate
on only
what you hear, feel,
or smell the entire time.
If you aren’t in the city,
walk for 1 or 2 minutes.
When you’re finished,
hug a tree.
Then, walk around a different
block and hum
a cheerful tune like “Mushaboom”, by Feist.
Find water
and think about
the water.
Do whatever
else you want
for the rest of the day
or two more minutes,
but do it with care
and thought.
When you return
to your doorstep
and go inside,
the poem is finished.

- Lisa Siemens

She is a river (sometimes)
green reflections floating

on brown water, white
clouds, moving molecules,

hydrogen and oxygen. The sky
lives on her surface and underneath

where you cannot see, the light
hides in the spaces between

the words she thinks
and the words she says.

Even in the deepest
part of winter, fish sleep

somewhere near the bottom, waiting
for the ice above to thaw.

Summer View From My Kitchen Window

Summer View From My Kitchen Window
I am already more than a week into my summer holidays and just beginning to settle into this greenest of seasons - so glad to be at home with my windows and my light. I am just learning how to post these blogs, spending too much time in front of my computer, not enough time with the sky.  The morning began with thunder - an hour of pouring rain and thunder!!  Long after sunrise, the sky was still dark and ominous, but then suddenly the sun broke through. I put on my garden shoes, grabbed my camera, and went out to the flowers . . .   

After the Rain

After the Rain
After all that wild weather, the day lily leaves were covered with such quiet raindrops . . . 

After the Rain

After the Rain
One side of my yard is lined with leafy peonies - the grandmother of all flowers - pink, white, deep, deep red.  I have been deadheading the flowers all week long, but this one, just opening, survived the storm. I have lived in my house for nearly twenty years; these peonies were here long before I moved in and with any luck will be here long after I am gone.