La Golondrina
INSTANT
—Taylor Graham, Placerville
Last gasp of sunlight
as if Tuesday packed its
suitcase—
as if that old clock
watcher, August,
was crossing off another
deadline.
The swallows, having
fledged their young,
are gone. Flown south
already?
Trust Time to tear down
every lovely thing.
Except, in one nameless
uncounted instant, a
dragonfly
red-amber hovers over
heavenly bamboo,
shade filigreed of summer,
and
disappears in light.
_______________
IDYLL
—Taylor Graham
In the pasture, stripped
to dirt by sheep
and drought, a fieldwire
fence snatches dawn-
light glitter, precursor
to the full sun glare
that glints a slanting,
prefab sheen—solar
installation guarded by
the fence. Sheep will
eat most anything. And by
that solar glory,
sun's rays transform to
dishwasher churning
suds to scrub away last night's
dinner.
What does magic have to do
with pastorals?
But how else shall I
explain it? The sheep
meander past, heads low,
in search of forage
as, this morning, sun
shines dingily through
clouds. Sheep churn up
dust. Everything
is veils—the clouds, the
scum of suds, residue
of gravy on stoneware,
scrim of adjectives
and nouns,
shimmer-daylight as clouds
dissipate. Sheep kneel to
meditate in oak-
shade made golden by the
sun. Could it reach
105 degrees today? The sun
will cool us
as it burns. Trading one
thing for another.
Let us sing the sheep, the
sun, this magic.
_________________
WHERE HAVE THE SWALLOWS
GONE?
—Taylor Graham
We're crazy in the good
old summertime
with ceiling fan, fly
swatter, insect sprays.
We need some swallows,
bug-catchers sublime.
We're crazy. In the good
old summertime,
mosquitos buzz the beat
without a rhyme.
It's dizzy humid-hot,
we're in a daze
and crazy in the good old
summertime
with ceiling fan, fly
swatter, insect sprays.
Aechmea Faciata
2012 Bromeliad and Carnivorous Plant Show
—Photo by Michelle Kunert, Sacramento
I thought my problem of
smarting off to defense lawyers' questions
would be enough to dismiss me permanently from being called
up again for public jury duty
Last time I said to an attorney "Hey, look here, I am
not the one on trial here..."
in response to his
searching for a jury for his client who sat in court in handcuffs
for being caught violating parole as well as for violently
attacking a woman;
the lawyer apparently didn't want any women who had been
"sexually harassed"
because it would undoubtably mean such a woman would express
bias
Yet here it comes in the mail with the detectable id badge
My stomach goes queazy
Oh what shall I do?
they can come after you and put you in jail if you don't
show up
and I don't want to give up being registered to vote
(the pool from which they draw names)
but for jury duty nobody will pay for my missing a day of
work
and I could go downtown to just end up spending the whole
day in the jury waiting room
being frightened about what I might get into if they call my
number…
—Michelle Kunert
_________________
TOO
EARLY TO TELL
—Caschwa,
Sacramento
Solar
lights still glowing
Nightly
breeze slightly blowing
Hyacinth
reruns, non-stop
Keeping
up appearances
Lawn
wet with dew
Weeds
now more than a few
Info-mercials
aim their claims
to the
sleepiest part of our brain
Pundits
boldly declare
their
opponent's acts are unfair
Some
team somewhere
won a
ball game, hooray!
Traffic
tie-up, fatal crash
news
reports are driven by cash
That
special car will be hard to replace
One
less driver, ho hum
They
took patterns
Off the
TV screen
And
forced them onto poets
Till
their faces turn green
We play
with the words
Earnestly
striving
Wasn't
that Mars lander
Texting
while driving?
Starving
children
crawl
into the pig pen
unable
to wait for
their
feed of the week.
______________________
DIVINATION BY SHOOTING
STAR
—Patricia
Wellingham-Jones, Tehama
In the small hours of the
night
she dragged a lawn chair
into the open,
settled herself,
cast her eyes
at the sky.
Despite an almost-full
moon
spreading its swath of
pale light
she watched for Perseid
meteor showers.
Long wait,
three shooting stars,
long wait,
more stars streaking,
one lone plane
red lights winking high.
Her body melted into the
chair,
she watched, half
dreaming,
remembered nights
when she was young
saying as each light
laced the sky,
He loves me,
he loves me not,
please make him love me.
___________________
FORETASTE OF FUTURE
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones
The five-year-old was told
to take care of her baby
sister
for a short while.
Not to let her out of the
house,
out in the street, out of
her sight.
Baby sister promptly set
forth
to big sis’ wringing of
hands,
quiet begging and loud
threats.
No use. Little one kept
going.
Big one trailed behind
until both children were
lost.
Happy ending, daddy’s safe
arms,
mommy’s tears and swift
swat.
Foretaste of future.
_________________
BOTTLE IN A CAVE
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones
A
Bottle
Clad in gilt,
Dim in cave black,
Edged its golden light
From dark to my vision.
Grab me, it whispered my
name.
Hand me down from this
wasted space.
Insured I am so no one
wants me.
Jiggle me not for I am
most fragile.
Kneel when you feel my
heft, carry me gently.
Lift me under the lamp,
examine my gold seal.
My liquid is the purest
wine, my color sublime.
Never was such ambrosia,
that’s why I’m hidden.
Open with gentle hands,
tilt over a glass.
Paradise is yours with
only one sip.
Quaff me with tender lips,
enjoy me.
Relish my rich red aroma,
Savor my complex earth
taste.
Tease your tongue with me,
do.
Use me, don’t hide me.
Vary your life.
Why not? See,
It’s easy.
__________________
Thanks to today's contributors for these epicurean delights, including long-time SnakePal Patricia Wellingham-Jones from upstate, who sends us some fine poems, including an abecedarian (see www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/5767) and a heartfelt wish for cooler weather! Go to littleeaglereverse.blogspot.com to see a poem by PWJ on a dandy blog (scroll down to August 2).
______________________
Today's LittleNip:
RAIN DANCE
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones
—Patricia Wellingham-Jones
May our feet waken the
Rain God
May our drums call him
forth
May our dance please
May clouds form and bless
the earth
May rain fall and nurture
our crops
May puddles form and lakes
fill
May the Rain God bless us
_____________________
—Medusa
