—Poems and Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
EVIDENCE
I wake to dog-bark.
What unknown creature visits
by dark of the moon?
I’ll find no trace by daylight,
but echo of dog barking.
_________________
MORNING DREAMING
A sliver moon in the northeast sky
dimly lights thistle-fluff clouds
as I walk to the well-house in the dark.
The moon is late, I’m early.
Garden’s still there; no sign of night-
marauders. Air’s still cool but 107’s
forecast for today. So we’re
headed upcountry—to forest
that stood tall long before
we were born. Well-water’s flowing
to my garden. I find my way
back to our dark house, morning-
dreaming of mountains.
TO THE HEADWATERS
Haven’t been to this place in years. Drove pickup to a fork: road bronchiole branching to alveoli. Washboard dirt track to dead-end parking. Empty my lungs and take-in blue. Pond murky but alive with fish-rise. Shadow, sun, chill breeze at high summer. July’s end, meadow uncertain of wildflowers. Lupine’s just opening its blossom-fists. Greenleaf skunk cabbage fading to gauze of plant-veins. Recollection of years compressed in photos. Flax, butterweed, forget-me-nots concealing stick-tights. Sparkle-haze dragonflies. Mosquitos, biting deer-flies cling to my calves. Memory stings, a landscape I love and leave, hoping to revisit in another, older year.
scent of pine, truck key
in my pocket—how shall I
return to my life?
HEAVENS IN A POND
In constellations
of the snowmelt meadow pool
my camera records
this newest observation
of summer’s sky: Dragonfly.
Can you see it?
LOW-FLYING
Flitty amber biplanes strafe the pond—
more dragonflies than I can count.
Invisible fish break the surface to catch
them. Sun-glare on my iPad screen,
flitty ripples of sun-water-shadow.
I aim, click at random, trust to luck.
Look, bottom corner of the photo,
can you see a dragonfly mid-flit?
Lexi
LEXI
This isn’t my dog.
It might have been my dog Loki
but on steroids—as a yearling years ago,
free of the leash.
This is my friend’s dog, leading a pack-
chase around the pond
on our upcountry morning:
getting away from
pavement and foothills heat; living
above and out-of-bounds.
Bounding
she almost knocks me down.
Nerves reflexes electric pure joy.
She’s not my dog.
I won’t be taking her home.
OUR SUMMER DAY
We gathered in shade
but it kept moving, changing
to stare of the sun
till there was nowhere to go
but the sun slipping toward dark.
Today’s LittleNip:
PALM TREE, WHITE SAND
—Taylor Graham
There was a palm tree standing tall
just off the freeway—houses, cars—
among the redbud and live-oak
it stood, ghost of another land;
not quite blending with all
the neighborhood. With stars,
perhaps, at night it spoke
of its homeland, white sand….
Sudden its fall
too quick for scars—
Thor’s lightning stroke,
a flaming brand.
___________________
Thursday thank-yous to Taylor Graham for taking us up-country this morning to share the beauty of the mountains. “How shall I return to my life?”, she says. How, indeed…
Today, starting at 11:30am, Wellspring Women’s Writing Group meets at Wellspring Women’s Center on 4th Av., Sacramento, facilitated by Sue Daly. Wellspring meets on every second Thursday of the month, using prompts to generate prose, poems, and journal writing.
Tonight at 8pm, Poetry Unplugged at Luna’s Cafe meets with featured readers and open mic. That’s on 16th St. in Sacramento. 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!—and the mountains, whatever the season!
—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.
