Fireflies

Across the street the sun shines on
a tall tree top. Over here it’s already dusk.
A shower earlier left my yard green and
dripping. Its wild with years of unraked
leaves and bushes and coarse grass, uncut.
The fireflies, their tiny red and green lights
ziging and zaging, glowing.
They fly up to the window
lighting for a moment,
soaring away
their sparks magical
in the darkening
yard.

The Rain – part two

It was the next morning before the
clouds moved in. The rain spread across the
mountain and beat on the tin roof
like a troop of gumboot dancers. It rained
all day and all night.

The next day brought the sun back, sparkling on
the puddles all over the yard. The
periwinkles covering the path to the garden,
flowered extra beautiful
from the rain.

 

Write a poem using at least 5 of the following 10 words/phrases; Forest Ranger, Skyscaper, Periwinkle, sourdough, Cloud, needle, gumboots, beat, spread, storefront

Summer Heat – Part One

Back then, we lived on Elbow Ridge,
up on Red Top Mountain. Mostly I
raised children and a huge
garden. My husband worked in town.

That evening, the kitchen table was crowded with jars
of tomatoes I’d canned that day. The air was
full of steam and heat.

We ate dinner on the screened in
porch surrounded by the evening
sound of frogs singing like
rain was on the way.

Afterwards we sat around watching fireflies
dance in the overgrown yard, fanning ourselves,
waiting for a breeze and
hoping for the rain to come.

 

Prompt for hour 14. Random Write a poem that contains at last five of the following ten words. Feel free to include all ten if you wish. frogs, evening, tomatoes, jars, raincoat, steam, peculating (embezzle or steal (money, especially public funds), children, elbow, mystery

Kintsugi

I sewed my broken
heart together with
golden thread and
gave it back to
him dripping
blood.

He didn’t
notice.

 

 

Kintsugi, also known as kintsukuroi, is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. Wikipedia

Call and Response

Hey, where’s the
meat? Are you bringing it?

Oh, she plans to bring it
later this evening when she
takes them back.
Did you need it before
then?

What time will that
be? Was it frozen?

She said between seven and
eight. Yes, it was frozen. Hope
you are not planning
to have it for dinner.

Not now we aren’t. Thawing some
chicken as he froze the salmon and
shrimp.  Arghhhh.


									

Train Memories

Riding the train, I would 
wonder what life I'd find in 
that small town, if I got out and
disappeared. 

The lonesome sound of the train whistle,
coming into a night time stop. Pulling
back the curtains to look. 

The huge prehistoric bird that flew
alongside the train for awhile in Wisconsin.
The officers who came through, checking
only the ID of two Asian women as we
traveled along the northern border.

The grafitti coming into or out of 
Chicago. And along the way on water
towers, viaducts, freight cars. Cris-
crossing the country carrying their
authors secret signatures.

A father singing "This land is your land"
to his daughter as we rode along the water
coming into Seattle. Or leaving Seattle at 
dusk.

The tired, dirty look of Detroit,
coming into the station at night. Almost
home.

11 May 1860



Inventory of the estate of Crawford
M. Jackson, deceased contained one hundred and
thirty-five enslaved people.
My great great grandmother Pricilla and 
her youngest child Eliza were number 
seventy nine and eighty. Pricilla was thirty five 
years old. They said she and her baby girl were
worth $1,200. 
Number eighty one, twelve year old daughter Iba, worth $1,000. 
Numbers eighty-two and eighty-three, two sons 
Harjo nine years old and Griffin eight. Appraised 
at $700 each. 
Number eighty four Pricilla's six year old 
son Frank was
appraised at $600. My great 
grandmother Mary, Poppy's mother, was 
number eighty-five. She was four years 
old. They said she was worth $400. 
In today's money, 
$12,973.25.

 

Flying

Photo by Ningyu He on Unsplash
We flew through the 
clouds like 
dragons. Spreading our
webbed wings wide. Gliding
on the wind.

Gliding. Diving.
Waiting.

 

Pictures

In the olden days, when we all gathered, 
parents, grandparents, children, grandchildren 
bringing food to share. Laughing, talking,
taking pictures to remember the day. 
Sometimes so many people taking pictures, we found
ourselves taking pictures of us taking
pictures.

Now, when I think back to those gatherings of
so many all over the house, crowded in the front
room cousins piled on top of each other like 
puppies, spread out in the other rooms,
I don't need a picture to remember. In
my minds eye, I can see us laughing and talking and
eating and snapping pictures.