Trusting the River

—Poems by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Chris Feldman, Pennsylvania

THE BLUE HOUR

soft as a lambswool boa
fuchsia clouds stream across blue sky
that darkens each moment
vision soars upward
within deep azure expanse
too early for stars
looking down, black trees
pine or deciduous
hide their identities
as night expands

 Brothers

WORK

nature takes a collective breath
light fades, edges blur
temperature drops, night falls

on the porch step, aged companions
warm in rough jackets, shoulders touch
backs of their hands maps of wrinkles
sharp bones lead to fingers
blue veins, brown spots

deep, dark blue night sky
crescent moon, winking stars
chill, electric

time passes in a parallel space
the two walk among the stars
golden sun ascends horizon
their hands brush brows
smooth, strengthen
hearts of the living

 Memories

RING OF KEYS

cheap wooden chest of drawers,
holding Dad’s worn socks, T-shirts, briefs
rolled-up belts, tissue-thin PJs
yellowed with age and cigarettes
like his skin in the final years
when his kidneys failed

none of it new; he’d stopped buying new clothes
“laid off” at age 59, retirement pay lost
struggled for years more
old boxer reluctant to leave the ring

at the end, he’d been flown out to California, to Mom’s
from the Illinois VA hospital where they’d taken him
after finding him passed out on the floor of his solitary rented room

maybe he came to her knowing it was time
a few weeks later, he died in the night
on a twin bed in her pocket granny cottage

when I called from LA, he wouldn’t talk to me
maybe reluctant to let me hear the sickness in his voice
maybe just too hard to say goodbye

they came and picked up the body the next morning
he’d donated it to science
a tree was planted in his name back in the Midwest
where he raised my siblings and me
his extended family, first wife and children, still there

I stand here in Mom’s bedroom
dark pit of her loss
fear, loneliness, pain, betrayal
decades of partnership that divorce could not break
my words will not heal her
she lets me rummage in Dad’s chest of drawers

in the top drawer, a cigar box
inside a heavy ring packed tightly with hundreds of keys
ancient, all sizes, some rusted
where are the locks they fit—
what are the stories behind them?

 Merry Metal

BLACK FRIDAY

chattering, pushing each other, racing
teenage girls at the mall
shopping for Christmas--families, beaus,
for themselves

falling over each other, scanning their phones,
put-downs, confidences, checking each other out

exiting Macy’s, one stumbles
trips over a bag of rags by the door
the bag exclaims offended obscenities
girl, frightened, drops her pink iPhone, spills her coffee

man shakes off his ragbag
hands her the iPhone
brushes her spilled coffee from his greasy sleeve
grimaces ruefully, Don’ worry, here!

she grasps the phone, digs in her purse
drops a ten-dollar bill onto his bag
turns, runs to her friends and car 

 Fortunate Fall

THANKSGIVING FEAST

people gather on the hill
small groups, families and friends
on blankets, lawn chairs

some walk from group to group
in late afternoon sun
warm like honey
unseasonable for November

a few strum guitars
play hand drums, singing bowl
chicken gives way to bean salad
cornbread to traditional turkey
yes, the dogs get their share

cooling sky turns pastel, darkens
sun drops below the hill
stars wink into focus, toenail moon

leftovers packed, blankets rolled
hand-in-hand, people wind down the hill
return to their round earthen homes

peaceful vision or wistful dream?
may it be so; may we survive

 Cedarbrook Buddha

AFTER TEACHING YOGA

come home by bus
feel the blocks roll past
familiar speed bumps, potholes
watch houses pass
warm afternoon sun through trees
my stop: grasp mat, purse, backpack
Thank you, sir!

use rail on the door
careful feet find the curb
wind down the block to my apartment
inside, soak washcloth in hot water, clean my feet
munch buttered toast
don my old robe, turn on soft music
try to work online but eyelids sink, mind empty

shut it down, all but the music can wait
nestle in bed, deeply relax
emotions still, trust the river
let sleep heal 

 Uadjet

Today’s LittleNip:

DHARMA CAT
—Ann Wehrman

sits on your face
licks your ears
impudent stranger
guest or vagabond
you found him, let him in
now he comes every morning
knows you love it

_________________

Thank you, Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman, for a lovely presentation of poems and photos on this pre-Thanksgiving Wednesday. Ann says her ”Ring of Keys" began as a response to a recent Seed of the Week, “In the Drawers of Old Desks”, but the poem deviated quickly… Yes, they do have minds of their own!



Tonight in Grass Valley, 4th Wednesdays Words w/Friends: Poetry & Pizza features Kathryn Smith, Gene Berson plus open mic at Wild Eye Pub, 535 Mill St., Grass Valley, 6-8:30pm. Hosts: Nevada County Poet Laureate Chris Olander, Wild Eye Pub, Nevada County Arts Council. 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.

Calif. Poets in the Schools is working to raise $60,000 by Dec. 31 for their work in bringing poetry  to over 300 schools, hospitals and juvenile jails in 2020. For details, and to make a donation, see www.facebook.com/donate/423025455254633/.

—Medusa, celebrating poetry!

 

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