The Poetry Marathon

magpies outsmart
the scientists —
their mates
remove those pesky
radio transmitters

electric lights
turn on and off
as Siri responds
to an African gray parrot —
what makes us human

the cockatoo
raises his sulfur crest
while harassing
an unflappable kookaburra
until he finally flies

I had begun to fade in the unseasonal heat and asked the tour guide if we could not spend too much time viewing the outdoor sculpture installation under her watchful eye. My brother erupted in anger and embarrassment, hissing “oh, jeez” at me under his breath. Somehow, my innocuous request had catapulted him into his adolescent embarrassment about our family. As for me, tears sprang to my eyes. I filed the incident away for future contemplation.

the long walk
back to the bus stop —
dry grass rustles

Maybe it wasn’t such a hot idea to bury free-flowing streams in culverts. Let’s restore them, one by one, above ground. We’ll plant their banks with certified riparian plant material. Low growers to line and stabilize their banks. Shrubbery behind the sedges and reeds, and trees behind them. Fast-growing trees will provide cooling shade for the salmon who will be sure to return, natal waters still flowing through their stream-lined bodies. Another glitch: there’s a mass die-off of cedars in our area. Probably due to long-term drought. Better consider species inexorably moving north to take their place. Lodgepole pines? Whatever. We changed the face of the earth because we could, and understood too little. We still do. Change too much and understand too little.

climbing the steep
learning curve
time immemorial

Her child-sized cello.
How it vibrated
in her embrace.

Her embrace
now overflowing
with three children.

Our neighbor’s geriatric rock band has packed up. It’s late in the day, but it’s summer and there’s still plenty of light up ahead. The afternoon pause in activity is packaged in silence, ringing louder in the wake of the Jefferson Airplane. A young, cheeky squirrel attacks the suet, but is easily, if momentarily, discouraged. There are millions and billions and jillions of tiny cedar cones covering the warming ground. I hear an eagle’s high-pitched voice. The only other sound’s the sweep of my broom clearing the flagstone path.

Swainson’s thrush —
its song spirals up
somewhere else

For a variety of reasons, for no good reason, for one very familiar reason, the ever-present-going-on-three-year-reason, I missed the chance to explore tide pools during record low tides (at mid-day, even!). Sea urchins, nudibranchs, starfish, crabs of all sizes, I salute you in abstentia and in memory. An abundance of caution has replaced your former abundance. In my dreams, your lives still teem.

searching for treasure
in a tiny tide pool —
golden anniversary

Walking a mile most days this plague year
past my workshop and out the gate
down to the mailbox cluster
and the butterbur patch
and up the steep hill
familiar yet
different
up I
go

the neighbors’ dogs
bark half-heartedly–
small power outages

temperature
in the 90s
one crow caws

a sip of green tea
imagining for a moment
a cool breeze

If we were lucky enough
lucky enough in the pandemic
in the pandemic we survived
we survived quite comfortably
quite comfortably we were full of angst
we were full of angst and counted
and counted our blessings
our blessings were many and great
many and great we acknowledge
we acknowledge and yet we fear
we fear for the future
over which we have no
control and let us say
(fill in the blank)

the wolf spider

runs along the rim
of my computer screen

too fast to catch
I wish things had
ended differently