Wednesday, December 08, 2021

Before the Dawn

—Poetry by Sue McMahon, Shingle Springs, CA
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of 
Joseph Nolan, Stockton, CA


I pushed open the doors early this morning
and goosebumps gathered on my arms
it was before the sun completely rose
yet before the moon went to bed
when for a moment the air
was crisp and cool to breathe
at that moment, I heard Autumn
knocking on my French doors
for soon, the leaves will be swirling around my house
floating high, taking trips to the neighbors’ lawn
I feel you arriving, falling perfectly into place
just exactly where you should be
bringing a calm to my soul
thank you, Madam Fall, for waking me
before the dawn.


Orange-green gourds galore
fat and knotty squash explodes
it's pumpkin harvest

* * *

Dark sunrises start
the day-off cold and dreary
sunsets come too soon

* * *

Eyes are wide awake
as warm cocoa calms my thoughts
’tis Christmas morning


That phone keeps ringing off the wall
Wait, define off the wall
It's connected permanently to the wall
the receiver is connected to a cord
you are tethered to the cord
you can never connect to a cloud on this phone
you speak and use your voice
to communicate
phone calls do not warrant emojis
my Grandmother could be seen bent over
her phone, while puffs of smoke filled the kitchen
from her cigarette while
I sat sneezing and watching TV in the living room
most likely allergic to this floating carcinogen
no one thought breathing this air had consequences
I was lucky, in that I only spent a few nights
there at my Grandma's house
but mother was not so lucky
she died from a lifetime of breathing that air
I called her old phone number and it rang and rang
I envision that old turquoise phone
ringing off the wall
waiting for Mom's arrival home



I woke up refreshed and made a cup of French press coffee
It is strong and tastes fantastic, thick with cream,
and while sipping on the brew my mind wanders
to roads headed North and a little East
I want to drive with no plans of where I am headed
Perhaps a secret attraction dictates my destination
I might end up on a mountain top packed with snow,
with rushing water and fresh green growth everywhere
and animals, and trees—oh the beautiful trees
And fresh blue water ponds I could swim in
and float freely about while watching the clouds linger by
My mind keeps wandering North and a little East
The road is long, and so I drive on ~


Today’s LittleNip:

Every single soul is a poem.

—Michael Franti


—Medusa, thanking Sue McMahon for her lovely seasonal poetry today, and Joseph Nolan for finding us these beautiful autumn photos!


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in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

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