The U.C. Davis Arboretum
—Poems by James Lee Jobe, Davis, CA
—Photos Courtesy of James Lee Jobe
I went out at first light and gleaned
The final eight peaches from the tree.
It had been a good peach season this year,
Rain, light, and love in equal measure.
The birds didn’t ruin too many.
The level of sweetness was perfection,
And both the size of the peaches
And the size of the crop were appropriate.
I say eight final peaches,
For that was how many I held in my shirt-tail,
Which I used as a basket, but truly there are nine.
That final peach I ate as soon as I plucked it,
Dew-wet and cool in the morning air.
My house was dark and silent,
Only I was up so early, 5:30 AM.
The street was empty as well.
Just me, in my 'grove' of three fruit trees.
My goodness, it was delicious.
________________
A windy, wet day
And I see my son through an opening
In a stand of pines
Two years since the funeral
The Woodland Opera House
I dedicate this next sip of coffee to life.
My next thought is for life.
Call it a toast, but with coffee.
Whatever love I can muster from within
To share without is for you, life.
Sky above, earth below, for you.
Daylight and moonlight.
The kindness that grows, grows for you.
As much as I love living,
I offer my next breath, and my last breath,
To you. Life.
—for William—
The Sacramento River
Walking the trail between the mountains and the cities
The path of being a true human being
The way between the light and the darkness
You can see crows and owls and lizards
Skyscrapers and bridges
Trucks laden with nothing important that drive
From nowhere that matters to a place without a name
Look for the rivers
Look for the desert
Learn the names of the plants
Sunrise and moonrise and the stars across the sky
This trail, this path—it goes on for one lifetime
You can stop where you want
Or turn aside
And you can choose to walk to the end
But whatever you decide to do
Keep your heart wide open
So the love can flow in and out
Isleton Bridge, Sacramento River Delta
Shivering on the north bank,
Putah Creek rolls on under my reflection.
The creek moves along
But my reflection remains still.
A cold winter morning in Winters, California.
_________________
Opening my front door, the past
Blows in, uninvited.
I open the back door,
So it can blow back out again as well.
No past, no future, just this moment.
May I pour you some tea?
Cache Creek
It was a colder, wetter winter this year,
And hot water in a tub never felt better!
So light the candles and join me, dear.
Just let that old wind howl.
__________________
Cold gray
Winter day
The world is lovely
Anyway
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Winding the old clock, I ask it about all of the hours it has shared with me. No answer, just the sound of morning rain.
—James Lee Jobe
__________________
Our thanks to James Lee Jobe for his comfortable words on this May morning! Yesterday, Carol Louise Moon and her brother mused about the wind; and now today the wind weaves itself into several of James’s poems. Must be the rainy, windy NorCal spring we’ve had this year that’s inspiring our poetry pals.
Lots of choices for readings in our area today, starting with Writers on the Air at 9:30am at Sac. Poetry Center; then the beginning of a new series at 2pm for Spoken Word: “Creative Minds”, hosted by Straight Out Scribes and Gerry Simpson at GOS Art Gallery Studio on Del Paso Blvd. in Sacramento.
Also today, Poetic License meets in Placerville at the Sr. Center on Spring Street, 2pm. The suggested topic for this month is "drought" but other subjects are also welcome. 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, celebrating poetry!
—Anonymous Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
