Odd Jobe Art
—Poems and Artwork by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
The gray skies of autumn. The tall sycamore.
The winds and rains that send the leaves to us below,
Leaves falling by the millions for days on end.
The child, on the cusp of adulthood, who spies
The one leaf, perfect, on its journey down to earth.
Oh, how beautiful is this thing we call life?
—for Jukie—
The winds and rains that send the leaves to us below,
Leaves falling by the millions for days on end.
The child, on the cusp of adulthood, who spies
The one leaf, perfect, on its journey down to earth.
Oh, how beautiful is this thing we call life?
—for Jukie—
_________________
Blazing sun, thunder and rain
Or the beauty of a night sky.
The Sacramento Valley
Does not discriminate,
It simply remains in the moment,
This moment, each moment.
More From Jobe
They are walking down my street with the weather
Wrapped around them, a slow neighbor
And his slow dog. As they pass me I tell them,
“Hallelujah.”
This place is safe, but I have lived in cities
Where danger led the race and bullets were king.
The ricochets whispered to me and I whispered back,
“Hallelujah.”
Morning becomes noon and day becomes night.
All things eventually end, life itself is impermanent.
What else is there to say to the ticking clock?
“Hallelujah. Hallelujah.”
Weird Jobe Art
A tidal wave of sunshine, beams from the sun
On the creek and on the fields.
Birds in flight, geese, crows, red tail hawks,
Turkey vultures—they flee the oaks
And rise up toward the sun,
The warm light on their feathery wings.
_________________
The crow makes a grab at the running mouse,
But, too late, he makes it into the underbrush
And is long gone. The food chain can be random.
The wind is rather cool, but the sun is bright,
A spring afternoon down by Putah Creek.
More Jobe Art
In faith and fellowship, the people I love
Have all joined their hands to pray—
This church has become my family.
Brothers and sisters, all giving thanks.
________________
Something I’ve learned—
If you live long enough
Even the deepest grief
Can become routine.
Here is yet another year
Without you in it,
My son.
Useless Jobe
To my west, the Montezuma Hills and the Vaca Mountains mark the edge of my flat valley and house the poison oak, rattlesnakes, deer, raccoons, and owls. The bones of these mountains, so low that they are almost hills, are shale, sandstone, and basaltic rock dating back to the Cretaceous age. Putah Creek and Cache drain the region to the east. Putah Creek is dammed to form Lake Berryessa, covering what was once a lovely canyon.
All day hiking the ridge trail
To picnic on the big flat rock
That overlooks Lake Berryessa.
Spring flowers, sunshine,
And an avocado sandwich.
(An American-style Haibun)
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Laughing out loud, my friend looks so old,
Then, when I check the mirror—uh-oh!
—James Lee Jobe
__________________
Thank you, James Lee Jobe, for your tasty brunch of art and poetry this morning! Sac. Poetry Center will hold its monthly Second Saturday Art Reception in Sacramento today beginning at 5pm, this month for Stop Stigma Sacramento. 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, celebrating poetry!
—Anonymous Photo
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