Sunday, July 21, 2024

Taking the High Road

 
 Early Winter Storm
—Photo by Chris Feldman

 
* * *

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


CALL ME BY MY NAME
 
shy, languorous, perhaps cruel
fall undresses slowly
as wind, hard rain
strip gold and russet leaves
from branches without remorse
trees' curves emerge
leaves pile at their feet
bright silken lingerie
 
fall unfolds over weeks, takes her time
finally stands beautiful, bare
before the last kiss
before her lover runs and winter tightens
 
trees hold onto that goodbye
stand strong throughout the year
they sing, Call me by my name
I am more than golden leaves, trefoil gown
more than arms or branches, fingers, twigs
skin or bark that peels to sweet new wood
more than blood or sap
 
Call me by my name
through the long winter, forgotten
they stand, broken, cracked
beaten by cold winds, longing
 
then at last, new life
green, warm sun and air
buds emerge, the trees sing
I am your other, I am your love—
call me by my name
 
 
 
 My Favorite Practice Room
—Photo by Ann Wehrman



ARIA
 
I reenter my favorite practice room
tears surprise me
long hours spent here, years ago
cold plastered walls, fragrant polished piano,
worn bench
welcome me back
wooden shelf holds my purse, flute case
it’s held thousands of music students’ gear
 
desire pushes
like a seed sprouts through soil
presses with every breath against gut, heart,
throat
I tremble as I unpack my flute, fit joints
together
close the thick wooden door—still, I will be
heard
I lift my flute to my lips
 
 
 
 Swallows' Nests
Sacramento State University, 2024
—Photo by Ann Wehrman



HOMING
 
in May, swallows with their new babies
fly in and out of nests in the eaves
of Capistrano Hall
 
my heart aches for my friend
now living in her car
survived getting old, losing her mom
even beat cancer
 
hands reach out to help
but she doesn’t see them, can’t trust them
folds into herself
 
 
 
 Take the High Road
—Photo by Chris Feldman



CHANGING COURSE
 
today imploded silently
while I slept unaware
and when I woke, stretched
I was pulled from within
away from what I had thought would be
picked up, set upon a new path
 
to-dos, deadlines unraveled, blew away
as I sat, breathed
later I made an omelet rich in cheese, veggies
rather than choking down dry toast
didn’t beat myself up
over playing a few wrong notes in orchestra
took photos of baby trees
poking up next to grandfather redwoods
inhaled fragrant soil soaked by heavy rain
 
fate gently swept me forward with love
I opened my eyes and jumped

___________________

Today’s LittleNip:


Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.

—Viktor E. Frankl

___________________

—Medusa, with thanks to Ann Wehrman and Chris Feldman for today’s fine collaboration!
 
 
 
 —Public Domain Illustration Courtesy of Medusa














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