24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
There’s a cost either way.
One road left, another right.
One takes you up, the other down.
You must choose.
For now.
Later you can circle back
and try the other.
If it’s still there.
Either way
You’ll find beauty,
growth, expanse, adventure.
Open your eyes.
Breathe it in.
Give thanks.
Make a choice.
The price of entry
is worth it.
I remember those days of toiling in the yard, out in the rain, cold yet sweating at the same time. We had a maple tree out on the far piece as we called it, encircled by a guard of cedars. It was a big tree. A colourful tree when the cool air turned the sap to molasses. Those big spikey leaves with ends resembling a crown, slowly turning from green to brown, to orange then gold with a hint of red. Its branches once filled with floppy green flags shading us on those hot summer days, now curling and dry, no longer supple nor carefree when the wind blows.
I can see myself raking piles and piles of those dead, crunchy bits, leaving mounds like molehills dotted across the far piece. Of friends and neighbouring kids falling into those soft cushions despite being dead. The earthy smells of damp grass, the soggy dirt. Rain drenched damp leaves a perfect haven for slugs, snails, and bugs. I loved how life receded when crisp breezes blew in.
The heavy dews turning white with age, becoming crisp and crunchy just as those leaves spiralled down. I miss those days of changing colours, swirling leaves and crunches under feet as if stepping on chips. The procession from the dog days of summer.
A slumbering nature awaiting the big freeze.
Traveling down a black-topped road
to anywhere
Towering evergreens line this road
Flashing across my windshield as I speed to
somewhere, anywhere but nowhere
The moon is my guide
I am drawn to her like a moth
on dusty fragile wings, I travel
weightless as the wind,
I’m leaving
leaving behind where I’ve been
Moving toward…
Towards what? Something new? Something
good? Somewhere good?
Who will care anyway? I’m leaving
Heading to who knows what in who knows where
The moon leads me
anywhere is better than here
The summer heat baked the watermelon on the vine,
Not enough water, not enough shade, perhaps another time.
Twice a day I tried to give them drink, but it was weeks with no reprieve,
The summer heat baked the watermelon, but wait, what did I see?
A weekend away, when I returned, the watermelon vine sprung anew!
Maybe too much water and too much heat, water more carefully I will do.
No flowers yet but hope has sprung, a chance again to thrive.
The summer heat’s not over, but maybe my garden will survive.
Opening ceremony so many new faces
so few old and recognizable ones.
The past rushing forward
slamming into us with a vengeance.
This is how she found us
“the past draped about us like a cloak.” (after Diana Khoi Nguyen)
Come, come and join,
the future begs of us,
tantalizes us
Do not fears us, rejoice in what was
and what will be.
Receive this cloak of history,
Wear it – and remember.
Scenes playing through your head.
Familiar actors running lines.
Watch, rewind, and watch again.
Romance, drama, comedy, adventure,
and maybe a little horror.
Lessons learned, or not.
Etched forever as part of us.
Yellow
Yellow was the color of the lights splashing through the windows
Yellow was the color of the lines drawn on the road
Lines that would lead to the house that encapsulated the yellow light that splashed through the windows
The house devoured the yellow light
Enslaved it
Contained it
Beheld it
The house was dark, and without this light, it would not be
For the dark house stood among tall dark trees
Surrounded by the tall dark skies where light no longer lay
That’s Sports
Just before the last cliche-laden interview
Before tens of thousands left the arena
as the winning score sends them ecstatic and broke into the evening
Before great and televised struggle of elite athletes and millionaire buddies
Before the bad call by the bad ref
Before the haaaalftiiiiiime shhhoowwww…
Before the pain and sweat
Before the drop, the jump, the kick, the green flag for aaalll of those pretty zeros on the contract
With franchise
With broadcast network
With corporate interest
With city and state
…Was an eternity of laughter and yelp
from parkway to playground
gym class to basement
drive way or alley
Where every single day was a gold medal
Hour 1
My Friend, Rae
Dark cloud of death
hovers above her.
Hails misery.
Split! Splat!
Drops a brother.
Husband.
Almost a lover.
Another brother.
She moves on…moves on…moves on…
I want to rush in,
grab her tight,
roll us both to safety.
It doesn’t work that way.
I can’t control the weather,
only here with an umbrella.
Sue Storts
09/02/2023