Saturday, January 15, 2022

The Taste of Cold Air

 
 Trash Day
—Photo by Chris Feldman
—Poetry by Ann Wehrman, Sacramento, CA
—Photos by Chris Feldman and Ann Wehrman
 


TAKING OUT THE RECYCLING

I trudge to the recycling bin
carrying paper bags, washed cans, containers
everything they’ll take

raindrops graze my cheek
everything smells of rain
soaked earth, fallen leaves rotting
December’s storms stripped the trees

cold air tastes delicious—easy to appreciate  
with my warm apartment
just a short walk behind
neighbors’ dogs bark as I pass
cars in their stalls shine, warm and capable

I’m at the recycling bin
next to the garbage bin
both emptied by crashing trucks, 8:00 am
bins reek of urine and rot
alleviated somewhat by rain
within their concrete shelter, edge of the parking lot

magnets for people who collect
cans and bottles to sell
some go through the garbage bin
for food

there is no public restroom
in our apartment complex’s parking lot
and if there were, it’s not likely
they would be allowed to use it

social division yawns
like earthquake’s chasm
recycling, healing the earth
pales before human cruelty
lack of understanding, compassion
abuse, violence, and war

is there perspective
are there solutions
 
 
 
Looking Out
—Photo by Chris Feldman
 


LIVING THROUGH COVID-19

despite being both an introvert and senior citizen
so tired of staying home alone
need to smile and laugh with others, hang out in person
give and receive a handshake, a hug, a backrub
walk long blocks, soak up the sun

day after day of sitting inside, working online, Netflix
muscles weaken, eyes strain, head pounds
go outside—carefully masked—
but what happened to my endurance?

I need to rebuild strength
hope to regain my sense of smell
long for the day when masks are not required
grateful to be living through this plague
 
 
 
Woman of Stone
—Photo by Chris Feldman
 

 
LATE AUTUMN, SACRAMENTO

today I broke down, early this year, just mid-November
built a fire in my one-room studio
ice crystals had gathered in the corners of my eyes
I’d begun to cough yellow from late fall’s leaves molding in cold, dark rains

agile black spider in my bathroom eludes me
I turn my back on him just for a moment
search for an effective weapon
and now he’s hiding, perhaps in the overflowing magazine rack

I worry he might decide to crawl onto the ceiling
then jump down onto my head while I sit there half-awake
in the middle of the night—happened just a few years ago

thrusting that still tactile memory far away
I perch on my stool, tap electronic keys, lose myself in work
toes finally warmed by central heating, electric fire
 
 
 
Meyer Lemons, 2021
—Photo by Ann Wehrman
 


GIFT OF MEYER LEMONS

just before Christmas, you brought a basket
filled with Meyer lemons from your garden’s tree

some huge, some smaller, all deep clean yellow
healing globes filled with summer’s warmth, abundant vitamin C
 
 
 
Rose Hips, Sac. State, 2021
—Photo by Ann Wehrman
 

 
MEDITATION ON ROSE HIPS

winter spreads her cold blanket
rain, leafless trees, wet earth
squirrels nibble with gusto
on mistletoe berries that would kill me
bury nuts, chase each other madly

rose branches stark black, wet from the rain
tipped with pinkish, coral globes plump with seeds
intoxicatingly beautiful
petals, hips are good food, strong medicine

yet sprayed with pesticides, these roses can’t be eaten
like the squirrels, I always think of food
 
 
 
Christmas Glow
—Photo by Chris Feldman



Today’s LittleNip:

CHRISTMAS COOKIES
—Ann Wehrman

rich butter, deep chocolate, sugar-iced, crispy lace
honey, molasses, fig filling, berry, coconut cream
sweet crystals like glitter above a dancing fairy’s eyes
melt in the mouth like kisses
take a risk, break a rule, holiday’s sweet rush
circle faster, wilder, winter celebration

___________________

Our thanks for today’s fine collaboration between Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman—a wonderful new year’s gift, for sure!

•••Tonight (Saturday, 1/15), 6-7:30pm: Poetry Art Walk takes place in Placerville at Toogood Cellars, 304 Main St., Placerville. Theme: Journey into January. Please wear a mask to protect yourself and others.

____________________

—Medusa
 
 
 

 








 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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