Atmospheric RIvers

 

The Power of a Secret

—Poetry by Joyce Odam and Robin Gale Odam,

Sacramento, CA

—Photos by Robin Gale Odam

 

 

 

SKY RIVER
—Robin Gale Odam

The day is flooded
by the sky river, heavy drops
landing on the landing in the solo
of percussion and the far v-shape of
geese calling, calling, calling, flooding
my heart with a strain of sorrow, the song
of remember, remember, remember . . .

The house finches
have vanished from the
tree branches. I always wonder
where they go in the rain, the finches.
And the hummingbirds, their hanging
bottles of red nectar empty from
winter's neglect . . .

____________________

SMALL FIGURE IN YELLOW

standing in the cold afternoon,
small boy stirs puddles with a stick,
rain streaming over yellow hat and slicker,
small figure in yellow watching rain drops splash,
watching the rings circling around his yellow boots,
and thinking

—Robin Gale Odam


(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2012)

 

 

 

Nothing to Know

 

FLOOD 1 (The Dreamer)

Though I say and say
I have nothing to know

I went to the parlour
heavy with snow

I swam till I melted
I was only a dream

I dreamed myself Dreamer
I learned to let go

I tried to be sorry
from seven to when

but sorrow was no one
and no one was me

I tried to be someone
but I was my own

she feeds me my mirror
I tried to say no

I am a dreamer
with reason to stare

I want to remember
I want to be me.

 

 

 

Only A Dream

 

FLOOD 2 (The Rivers)

The rivers follow the
notions of the winds

The winds have no say
for their directions

The trees go one at a time
or many at once

Skies and shadows darken to heavy gray
Houses creak and howl

The ones who brave the rivers
stay where they are

The rivers rise and flow in fury—
guiltless

 

 

 

 Notions

 

FLOOD 3 (The Day)

This day is to be remembered
for its many ways of being
from calm to madness

felt by watchers
who feel and understand
those who brave the reality of the fear

or the watchers from the windows
who 'back-and-forth' from admiration
to apprehension

how it howls and battles
with all its strength
but will die down eventually

_____________________

FLOOD 4 (The Invisible Winds)

I am watching the invisible winds—
they cannot know, the power of a
secret is what I know and value.

I watch quietly, how they blow
across the gazing of the world—
how it is, right now, letting itself

wonder, or we, wondering how it is
right now, or we who fear and admire
the moving air feeling the darkness

that is there—for the sky is settling
everywhere—even the deepening gray
clouds that we admire the background

of, their movement, how the
mind breathes for itself, and we,
the floating world, follow what is gone.

 

 

 

Mocking The Bird

 

ATMOSPHERIC RIVERS
—Robin Gale Odam

Scattered ribbons in the sky,
black and somber, trailing now—
threads of rivers above the valley
turning into rainfall.

Hurricane hunter aircraft
gathering the story,

cloud blanket, tornado bomb,
thunder head, a surge, a squall,
the weather-teller's catchy terms
for winter's tempest woe.

The urban trees are shivering,
a hundred sparrows in the garden
barking in the brittle branches.

The city now is flooded—
tomorrow will be breezy.

______________________

HALF-LIGHT
—Robin Gale Odam

Here at dusk the imitation of
shadow—angle of dark pulled
through a window, thin at the wall,
sheer on the breath—whisper of
remembering                                  

I avoid the mirror—I’m certain
there is new territory drawn

The hour will change at the
advent of edits—words on the    
page are not the same in daylight


(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)

______________________

Today’s LittleNip:

AXIS
—Robin Gale Odam

the gathering of scraps, of
words to tide us over

the gale to brace against, the
chill to shiver

take the horses to the stream,
see them drink the dark of night,
watch them go around the page

bring us to the water—take us
from the dream


(prev. pub. in Brevities, 2020)

_____________________

Joyce Odam remains at her daughter Robin Gale Odam’s house, recuperating from her fractured hip. So Robin, a fine poet herself, has stepped in to add to Joyce’s Tuesday poems and photos. And we’re grateful to both of them for their comments on our Seed of the Week, Flooded.

Our new Seed of the Week is “Stranded”. Send your poems, photos & artwork about this (or any other) subject to kathykieth@hotmail.com. No deadline on SOWs, though, and for a peek at our past ones, click on “Calliope’s Closet”, the link at the top of this column, for plenty of others to choose from. And see every Form Fiddlers’ Friday for poetry form challenges, including those of the Ekphrastic type.

Notice of a workshop on metaphor has popped up for tomorrow, 10am-12 noon: Gold Country Writers Speaker Meeting in Auburn presents a workshop by Georgette Unis: Sounding the Metaphor. It's at the Auburn Airport's Barnstormer Room, 13626 New Airport Rd., Auburn, CA. Info: https://goldcountrywriters.com/. (Bring pen and paper.) Click UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS at the top of this column for details about this and other future poetry events in the NorCal area—and keep an eye on this link and on the Kitchen for happenings that might pop up during the week.

______________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

—Public Domain Photo

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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