Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Summer Montage

—Poems by Claire J. Baker, Pinole, CA
—Anonymous Images of the Night Pond



AN EARLY START
(van camping)

A silhouetted hilltop oak
snags a cotton ball moon;
the farm road veers;
we roll down the windows,
greet the horizon sun.
Four last stars point
to a village coffee shop.

We enter into browns and golds,
pungent beans, tea leaves,
melded spices; steamed milk
hails with a friendly hiss;
we sprinkle cinnamon and vanilla
on lattes. An espresso machine
grinds fragrantly.

Licking off milky mustaches,
we drive on to some rustic Camelot
for vagabonds.


(first pub. in Song of the San Joaquin)






SUMMER MONTAGE
(a poem on the ‘70s)

We hike on dusty trails
quietly, like a summer breeze.
When grasshoppers stir
we mimic their zuzz, listen
for more sounds to learn.

Grief is shade
under three laurel trees—
joy, the scenes we paint
facing the sun when we close
our eyes, see colors, designs.
Holding lids more loosely
or tightly makes colors paler
or darker, but just as vivid.

Blackbirds cluster on a bush,
black, shiny, waxed leaves.
we manage to pass by and not
frighten this strange foliage.

Biting a bay leaf, we look
forward to autumn with
fewer regrets.
Even our sweaty armpits
smell sweet this summer day.






CHILDHOOD STUFF

Our gang built a rickety tree hut;
flamed marshmallows to a crisp
for the melted pearl inside.
We sold lemonade
from orange crates,
read library books by flashlight
in the backyard tent,
lit like a cathedral.

Some thought me an odd kid:
In winter I shoveled snow
from our porch to the road,
hands near frostbitten, but snow-
shadows were blue as my eyes.
In spring I blew squeaky notes
through blades of grass;  pulled
petals off a daisy, chanting:
love me, love me not?
Then felt sorry for the daisy.






PACIFIC OCEAN PICNIC

Bounding waves fly flickers
over our bare shoulders
and beach towel
where an ant staggers
over cotton ridges,
exhausted like foam weaving
lace all along the shore.

Playfully,
with our front teeth we suspend
and apple between us—
one bite and the tart red falls...

We lunge into our lunches,
tongue, lips, chins creamy
from potato salad 
with all the trimmings.
Later, when we kiss,
onions on our breath
mingle memorably…






ALBERT EINSTEIN
(a brief sketch)

Not into higher math or physics,
I skim equations and theories
he refined to infinity and back.

Focusing on Einstein's eyes,
Ah, poetic imagination
and practical wonderment.

On long nights he sought
the remotest
possibilities of the cosmos.






JOURNAL ENTRY

At age 18, I wrote about
my sojourn in mom's belly,
that iffy head-first
cut-cord emergence
as a real being. Soaped
clean, how free I felt!

Last night
my spirit floundered.
I remembered my birthing—
how, when I finally crowned,
kind hands eased
my shoulders
into the light.






GRANDMOTHERS
(for Karen Stella)

Our Grandmas, skilled, responsive, model courage.
So when the family's pathway angles steep,
she urges: change your boots and rest, await
a milder tilt...These mothers of our moms,
"on hand" most every time, invite our choice
to find a tended trail, a slower pace.

After watching grandkids climb with wonder,
it all comes back: tumbles, cut knees, screaming.
Balancing her head and heart for apt reactions
beyond tenacious tugs from gravity,
Grandma tells us giving birth is artful,
that birthing begets the happiness of giving.

In reading Grandma's eyes and lips, we hear:
"Remember love's not far, not far at all."






Today’s LittleNip:

NIGHT POND
(a cinquain)

At camp
we wax votive
candles to plastic plates,
launch them, astounded as each flame
doubles.

_________________

Our thanks to Claire Baker this morning for summer memories and the miracle of birthing! And don’t forget that Poetry Off-the-Shelves poetry read-around meets in Placerville tonight, 5-7pm, at the Library on Fair Lane. 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 the poetry of memories and the night pond…



 For sounds of the night pond, go to 
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoSo9zIu5ZI/.















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