—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
JULY WAKING
Come out and see the morning clouds dawn-lit
so high and disappearing, on their way—
to where? Soon we’ll be happy just to sit
in oak-tree shade and waste the day away.
No, let’s find a trail
upcountry, brisk with wind
where thin air is a tonic.
Our dogs will chase a thunder-clouding.
Down here, don’t you feel the swelter building?
Cool mountains beckon with a snowmelt lake—
and here we sizzle. Won’t you just wake up,
come out and see the morning clouds dawn-lit!
SUMMER MORNING
Beyond the intersection of turnpike
and switchback; fluent as slipstream
above shadow grove,
down canyon where a retriever’s
tuning up with jubilant voice:
Something’s about to happen!
Already you’ve found the praying
mantis of natural sleight-
of-color, and by chance
a winged seed twirling on air
like a whirligig.
Anything can happen. Make it so.
RIVER OF LIGHT
Sun in our eyes, blinding
by dawn-glare through windshield,
we’re driving into the unknown,
swimming up a river of light.
By dawn-glare through windshield,
tall dark pines on either side,
we’re swimming up a river of light—
new asphalt. Snowmelt summits,
tall dark pines on either side—
what discoveries beyond
new asphalt? Snowmelt summits,
a long trek to find ourselves.
What discoveries beyond
June sky? Those high, thin-air peaks,
a long trek to find ourselves,
if tremendous gusts don’t scatter
June sky, those high, thin-air peaks
where the heights shine like angels.
If tremendous gusts don’t scatter
in all directions, a vista opens
where the heights shine like angels.
We’re driving into the unknown.
In all directions a vista opens
sun in our eyes, blinding.
HOT GOLD
sky-blue is mirage—
where are the rains of last spring,
its splashing puddles?
sun’s an eight-pointed
star so hot it blazes white
on a sun-burned field
where’s lush pink clover
and purple vetch that quilted
the April pasture?
how these poppies
bloom for summer, so alive
among dead grasses
poppies stitched with hot-
sun sierra-gold
DISPLACEMENTS
You spent hours searching old County
records. You dug up history
almost as ancient as the Miwoks
who left nothing but their grinding-
rocks behind. Who could really own this
land? A one-lane gravel road
runs from asphalt into game-trail,
stops running under snow or blow-down,
wash-out. You moved way out here,
wishing to be free of neighbors,
hassle, litigation over right-of way,
and fences. Just listen to the land shrug,
a motion to dismiss. Remember
that night, by your returning headlights,
three or was it four young foxes
cavorting past your garden, instantly
gone to dark, as the Miwoks are gone now.
No question of who is worthy,
who’s in the legal right. The foxes
vanished into night, leaving moon-
light-glint of silver on the grinding rock.
YOUNG JACK
He’ll never grow into his ears. But
he’s off on his own now, scouting new
territory; flummoxed (briefly)
by our ranch gate: how to get through?
Nose twitch, and he figures it out,
up our rutty drive to the corner, then
along my new mown path
through dead grasses. What does
a jackrabbit find to eat, this sunburned
time of year? I keep driving
to our front door, release Trek
from the car, and he’s
off at a dash—to where he last
scented fear, scented rabbit—
deaf to my calls. The jack long gone,
creature born and raised to flight;
tribal memory of being prey—
running from dog, hawk, hot-flash
of fox. Always on the run.
Today’s LittleNip:
HOT QUESTIONS
—Taylor Graham
Why did they cut down all the trees,
and cyclone-fence the play yard
where kids might like to hide-and-seek
the shade of a summer’s heat today?
Why did they lock the garden gate,
where sunflowers bloom so much solar
energy, they’re like to fly away?
____________________
Our thanks to Taylor Graham for her fine poems and photos today! TG has now officially completed her reign as El Dorado County Poet Laureate (see www.mtdemocrat.com/prospecting/taylor-graham-ends-tenure-as-the-countys-inaugural-poet-laureate) and will be succeeded by Suzanne Roberts of South Lake Tahoe.
Tonight at 8pm, head over to Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe in Sacramento for featured readers and open mic. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about this and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.
—Medusa
—Photo by Taylor Graham
Celebrate the poetry of yellow!
Celebrate the poetry of yellow!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by clicking on them once,
then click on the X in the top right corner to come back
to Medusa.
