The Best of All Worlds

 

—Poetry by Carol Louise Moon, Placerville, CA

—“Nature’s Photoshop” Photo Series by Carol Louise Moon

ACORN WOODPECKER

Perched on top the telephone pole,
a cavity carved out there, a family
of woodpeckers lives on Mosquito Rd
a lightly traveled country road. Here,
one is blessed to see black and white
patterns against a blue sky as these
birds fly between poles and tree
limbs in the delight of early spring
breezes.

Their call is something akin to a
chuckle, a childish delight, for surely
they own this lovely green land, field
stretching far out, dotted with
dandelions and blackberry vines.

On any given day one who walks this
country lane can hear the drumming
of these clever birds living along-
side the Mountain Bluebird, Quail and
Wild Turkey. They drum to announce
their territorial claim.

As in Gold Rush Days, these birds
have their golden reward of acorns
which they bury in pantries of
trees, poles and fallen logs.

Once again, the drilling is heard
as we walk through these northern
California woods. Look closely at
the Ponderosa Pine. You will find
it studded with acorns. The Acorn
Woodpecker, ever industrious,
is satisfied that his is the best
of all worlds. 

 

 

 

 

 

QUAIL RUNNING

Two little quail skitter quickly up
this gentle country dirt path,
one running faster than the other.
It’s hard to keep up sometimes.

A dog watches from his porch
and wonders if there’s food
ahead as he barks at the quail.
Competition can be a real strain.

In his envy and frustration, his barks
get louder—the quail run faster
to the safety of bushes with berries.
See here… Doggies don’t eat berries. 

 

 

 

 

 

IN A MEADOW

Smooth blue river rocks are scattered
near large stones with lichen crown.
Crumbled wall so gray and ancient
granite chunks have fallen ‘round.
Forest odors fill the shadows;
gray fence clothed in dusty down.
Branch of Manzanita fallen,
here the lizards find their place.
In the midst of rain and showers
stands a willow clothed in grace. 

 

 

 

 

SMOKE ON THE RIDGE

My heart roams this wild landscape
in search of a vanished childhood.
I had felt her walking along this
sandy loam path that cuts between
two pines. As a child I walked farther
up the clearing which is now
overgrown with poison oak. Thistle
had not snagged in her gauzy
skirt in those days of childhood
wonder. Deer tracks were
recognizable, and scrub jay feathers
were to be found and tucked into
skirt pockets. But now, even as
smoke clouds the horizon I find only
the rust of dried pine cones,
a half-eaten bird, and a dead snake
laid across a boulder.

fall forest deer path
I follow heart-shaped deer tracks
still seeking her soul 

 

 

 

 

 

A HAWK AND A BUNTING

A Bunting bobs along
where grass seeds have blown.
Look, she whispers,
thistles sway and rustle.
Look again.
I see through sunshine
all the shadows that are made.
A hawk flies over
all the shadows that are made.
I see through sunshine,
look again—
Thistles sway and rustle.
Look, she whispers,
where grass seeds have blown
a Bunting bobs along. 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s LittleNip:

A TANKA
—Carol Louise Moon

silent—almost
whoop… whoop… whoop
I turn to note
Raven, his dark wing
his shadow—his dark presence


(prev. pub. in Gusts 31, 2020 and
Contemporary Tanka, Canada)

______________________

—Medusa, with many thanks to Carol Louise Moon for her soothing poetry and photos this morning!

 

 

 

Snowflakes on Feathers

—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!