Rain on a Hood
Photo by Katy Brown, Davis
I WAKE AND HEAR THE STEADY RAIN
—Margaret Ellis Hill, Wilton
I wake and hear the steady rain,
let the water wash pain away
from shoulders, drop through fingertips
to land near the edge of my feet.
I see all that water glisten in pools
refracting the light of a street lamp.
You wanted sex for sex sake,
a release for your wife's death
two months ago. You forgot
to tell me, so let me touch your lips,
embrace your mind, believe kindness.
Today I notice how my eyes
follow the ripples of water,
how the smallest movement,
even a slight breeze of words,
makes trivia out of time.
I will not go outside quite yet
but stay warm underneath blankets
smoothed and placed carefully,
stroking only the cats, curled
and purring at the foot of my bed.
_______________________
Thanks, Peggy! Someone else who has a February birthday is Margaret (Peggy) Ellis Hill, a native California girl, retired horticulturist, teacher and designer, who descends from a long line of actors, musicians, artists and teachers. A dedicated writer, she spends her spare time reading, studying and learning the art of poetry. Her first book, Close Company, was released in May, 2003 by Poet Works Press, and Rattlesnake Press released her littlesnake broadside, Exegesis of Love, in 2005. [Mail me an SASE and I'll send you a copy.]
Unfortunately, Peggy's husband passed away recently, but they had a long life together which includes five wonderful children and assorted grandkids. She lives in a beautiful ranch setting in Wilton with her many roses and wild turkeys and her energetic father, who is in his 90's. Happy Birthday, Peggy, and thanks for the poetry! Now all we need is a picture of you..... :-)
______________________
THE YELLOW-BILLED MAGPIE
flaunts an iridescent black back,
tapered tails, bright white shirt.
A yellow beak completes
his fine feathered costume.
Raucous caws crow the importance
of his skill at snatching sustenance: seeds
to insects on the wing—even road kill.
He's not afraid to steal swallow's eggs
or his comrade's lines for another gig.
He and his cronies use the vast prairies
and native forests of California's coastline
and central valleys for exclusive shows.
This flashy fellow presents quite a program,
but step too close the stage, he scolds,
making sure you understand that he guards
his acting tactics behind a proscenium arch.
—Margaret Ellis Hill
________________________
DESCENT
—Margaret Ellis Hill
I open the door,
descend into the basement,
forgetting the dark.
There’s a light
at the top of the stairs,
but I’m in a hurry;
I must concentrate
so I won’t slip or fall.
I find it’s not easy carrying
laundry baskets of thoughts
down narrow stairs by myself,
into a cellar full of shadows,
of scurrying conjectures.
I learn if I’m not careful,
I can sprain an ankle
or break my mind.
_______________________
Thanks, Peggy, for the shadow poem. The rest of you need to send me your poetry about shadows before midnight this coming Monday, Feb. 13, and I'll send you a surprise poetry present! E-mail to kathykieth@hotmail.com, or snail to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726, and remember—previously-published poems are okay for Medusa; please cite the publication.
—Medusa
Medusa encourages poets of all ilk and ages to send their POETRY, PHOTOS and ART, as well as announcements of Northern California poetry events to kathykieth@hotmail.com (or snail ‘em to P.O. Box 762, Pollock Pines, CA 95726) for posting on this daily Snake blog. Rights remain with the poets. Previously-published poems are okay for Medusa’s Kitchen, as long as you own the rights. (Please cite publication.)