Sidewalk Over Water
—Poems and Paintings by Douglas Polk, Kearney, NE
LOST CREEK
August days seemed on fire,
oven hot,
the winds from the south,
tar bubbles between the slabs of concrete,
my friend and I
would sneak out to the creek,
not deep enough to swim,
we'd take off our shoes,
and tie them together
to hang on our necks,
socks stuck in the shoes,
trousers up to our knees,
we would wade in,
and walk downstream,
remembering to stay close enough to town
to hear the firehall whistle,
announcing twelve,
one, and five o'clock,
we'd play in the creek,
under shady, shady trees,
knowing our asses and dignity damaged
if we were ever caught,
the creek, a place for snakes,
and tramps,
a place forbidden,
especially in August weather,
the dog days, when snakes, supposedly blind,
Lost Creek,
we would lie on the bank,
waiting for any wetness to dry,
then make our way back to town,
complaining about the heat,
pretending our afternoon was
hot as ever.
The Heroine
REMEMBERED
her smile remembered,
and her legs,
hot summer days,
and nights,
spent entwined,
my best memory,
her body,
and the little shiver,
at my first touch,
full of promise,
and passion,
and so much more.
Old Windmill
THE WINDMILL
the windmill creaks and clangs,
water carried to the surface of the earth,
and out the pipe,
I take the tin cup from the nail,
behind the brace,
the water cold, and clear,
tasting pure
and sweet,
while the windmill continues its complaints,
working late into the afternoon.
Blue Birds
CHANGING SEASONS
the Autumn chill,
tingles on the lungs,
birds gather overhead,
noisy with anticipation
as fall arrives,
horns heard in the distant morn,
marching bands practice
with thoughts on the fall nights,
and football,
and half-time shows,
change always a surprise,
how quickly the seasons come
and go,
and summer disappears forever.
Pheasant
Today’s LittleNip:
A DAY WELL SPENT
—Douglas Polk
the day over,
my soul not betrayed,
can still look in the mirror
and not have to turn away,
so in some way,
the day’s a success,
even if it is only known,
to me and my soul.
____________________
Thank you! to Doug Polk for his fine poems and paintings today, all the way from, as he puts it, “the wilds of Nebraska”. Beautiful county that he captures in his art—both words and pictures and word-pictures. Welcome back to the Kitchen, Doug!
This just in: on Sunday, American River Conservancy will sponsor Taylor Graham and Katy Brown as they lead the Fall Poetry Workshop at Wakamatsu Farm in Placerville. 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 pictures in words and paint ~
Cranes on the Platte
—Painting by Douglas Polk
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.
