Turkey Moon

—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA

MEMORY LANE

Alley flowers bright against the dark unknown; hollyhocks and pansies. Beyond, walls with doors all closed, keyholes calling for a magic key. One door leads to Grandmother’s cellar, forbidden place slumping into earth. I might catch a glimpse of Honey-Bear earth-lit with bear-knowledge slipping into dark. Scene remembered from a child’s book gone years ago. Quagmire of memories. Driving through town, I see an alley with trailing ivy; walkway behind a bungalow abutting weedy lot, daffodils blooming in spite of. Beyond lies the edge of possibility. Then I see the sign, PODIATRIST. Beyond, another sign: NO TRESPASS. The place is gone, locked in ice of the mind. My mother forgot almost everything, entering the unknown dark.

living flowers light
a path for the next footstep
where the bear might be

A STOLEN DAY?

You held out the carrot: Adventure.
We set out on a hike—just a short walk
through summer meadow lavish
with annual wildflower show: lupine,
paintbrush, columbine…. Far below,
thin line of snowmelt lake dissolving sky’s
blue. Along this creek, willow in thickets
not yet touched by autumn, beckoning
higher up the slopes. Willow bright
with song—maybe the elusive willow
flycatcher. Willow rooted in mountain,
locked in a green embrace.
Almost impenetrable. Not quicksand
but where’s the way out? You say,
don’t worry. But ego is a swindler: I can
find a way out of here. Distant thunder.
Dark clouds race for the summit,
thunder’s closer. Here’s a hike
to remember—if we reach our car.

RIDGETOP SCHOOL

They’ve redesigned the entrance, cut down trees, built more fences. But memory leads past the bungalows, down into woods. Spell of pine and cedar deepening the sky’s blue. The path has shifted, but it brings me to cedar-bark tepee—Nisenan? Imagine sleeping under that cedar where Raven perches, knowing I don’t belong. I walk around to the tepee’s entrance. What’s that? a wooden hobby horse for a very small child. Pioneer artifact? or product of someone’s power tools?

a horse to carry
a child’s imagination
across endless plains

BREATHING POEMS

Isn’t poetry-for-money like quicksand?
That’s what I thought when they offered us
money for poetry. Doesn’t money have strings?

The cost of paper and pens for writing poems,
of course. But fancy paper, fancy pens?
Who can write poetry that way? Don’t the best

verses come when you don’t even have
a scratch pad, or your hands are occupied with
steering the car? Isn’t poetry like breathing?

Just close our eyes and invoke metaphor;
transform quicksand to a sea of word-
sound-image. Swim. Don’t forget to breathe.

SPRING VISITATION
         a Zejel

Far out of sight, from down the swale,
flush out of March’s gloom and gale
and into spring still fresh and frail

as blossoms on the wild-plum bough—
a laughing giggle—who knows how?
unseen and subtle, shy somehow
but getting louder on the scale

of birdsong. Such a trilling thrill,
a gobble! bolder, climbing still
up through our trees, our pastured hill:
two hens, a tom—his splendid tail!

TURKEY MOON

Taking the slash pile apart, twig by branch
by lichened limb chain-sawed off the corpse
of a great live oak fallen in storm,
we found three fresh turkey eggs. Carefully
I placed some branches back over the pile.
We left as quietly as we could.
Next day, four eggs. I checked my guide:
8-12 eggs normal, up to 20.
She’s got a lot of laying left to do.
Incubation: 28 days, a whole moon-cycle.
By good fortune, the nest will thrive.
I’m wishing on a Turkey Moon.

Today’s LittleNip:

SPRING SURPRISE
—Taylor Graham

Under the pile of
brush we meant to dismantle—
three new turkey eggs!
It’s time to revise our plans
if we treasure wild turkeys.

___________________

Thank you to Taylor Graham for today’s poems and photos, as she skillfully works the recent Seed of the Week, Quicksand, into this morning’s offering. Count how many times she slipped it past us! And for more info on the zejel, go to www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/zejel-poetic-forms/.

Wellspring Women’s Writing Group meets today at 11:30am at Wellspring Women’s Center on 4th Av., and Chris Erickson is the featured reader at Poetry Unplugged tonight (plus open mic), 8pm, at Luna’s Cafe on 16th St. in Sac. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa (Celebrate Poetry!)

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FUN TURKEY FACTS!

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clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.