—Public Domain Leaves Courtesy of Medusa
OCTOBER
On a brisk October morning
we shuffled through a carpet
of amber and gold leaves
swirling in the wind, flying
and falling, still full of life and shine
as we bent to collect them.
At a market I selected
a perfectly round pumpkin.
We would use all of it.
At home you sliced the top off,
leaving its curved, green stem
on as a tassel to adorn a cap.
We both dug out the juicy pulp,
which I put in a big bowl and
went to the kitchen to bake our pies
While you took the pumpkin shell
outside to hose off and carve,
I prepared pie dough and filling.
Soon oven heat fused the ingredients,
releasing sweet, spicy pumpkin essence.
While the pies baked, I took the bright leaves
and wove a wreath with wire, looping it
around a wooden frame and interspersed
fresh cranberries between the leaves.
I hear you walking into the kitchen,
carrying the jack-o-lantern, and I
could not wait to see his smiling face.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, diff. form 10/22)
On a brisk October morning
we shuffled through a carpet
of amber and gold leaves
swirling in the wind, flying
and falling, still full of life and shine
as we bent to collect them.
At a market I selected
a perfectly round pumpkin.
We would use all of it.
At home you sliced the top off,
leaving its curved, green stem
on as a tassel to adorn a cap.
We both dug out the juicy pulp,
which I put in a big bowl and
went to the kitchen to bake our pies
While you took the pumpkin shell
outside to hose off and carve,
I prepared pie dough and filling.
Soon oven heat fused the ingredients,
releasing sweet, spicy pumpkin essence.
While the pies baked, I took the bright leaves
and wove a wreath with wire, looping it
around a wooden frame and interspersed
fresh cranberries between the leaves.
I hear you walking into the kitchen,
carrying the jack-o-lantern, and I
could not wait to see his smiling face.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, diff. form 10/22)
WELCOMING THE NIGHT
I opened my window and let the night pour in,
dripping indigo ink on the sill that settled
in puddles on the floor, soaking the wool carpet.
Stars drifted in as well, beacons in the dark.
I wondered, would the wedge of moon be drawn
over the sill, rolling in an arc, or would it move on,
leaving much too soon.
I opened my window and let the night pour in,
dripping indigo ink on the sill that settled
in puddles on the floor, soaking the wool carpet.
Stars drifted in as well, beacons in the dark.
I wondered, would the wedge of moon be drawn
over the sill, rolling in an arc, or would it move on,
leaving much too soon.
CONSPIRATORS
We will sneak away in the middle of the night,
telling no one we are leaving, or where we are
going.
You can drive from your house and pick me up
around the side of mine, farthest from where my
parents sleep.
Off we will go into the night.
I can imagine them in the morning. Mom calling
me,
giving me some time to come down for breakfast,
then angrily,
marching up to my room and opening the door as
forcefully as
a gust of wind, seeing my bed still made.
She will scream, "Phil, she's gone." He'll stomp
upstairs.
They'll stand there together, staring at my bed.
She will cry,
"What should we do?" Dad will get his look.
You know,
his face, blood red. "It's that boy. I'll kill him!"
I looked at Stan and we laughed together.
It was fun to think about when we were sixteen.
(prev. pub. in Medusa's Kitchen, diff. form 12/22/22)
We will sneak away in the middle of the night,
telling no one we are leaving, or where we are
going.
You can drive from your house and pick me up
around the side of mine, farthest from where my
parents sleep.
Off we will go into the night.
I can imagine them in the morning. Mom calling
me,
giving me some time to come down for breakfast,
then angrily,
marching up to my room and opening the door as
forcefully as
a gust of wind, seeing my bed still made.
She will scream, "Phil, she's gone." He'll stomp
upstairs.
They'll stand there together, staring at my bed.
She will cry,
"What should we do?" Dad will get his look.
You know,
his face, blood red. "It's that boy. I'll kill him!"
I looked at Stan and we laughed together.
It was fun to think about when we were sixteen.
(prev. pub. in Medusa's Kitchen, diff. form 12/22/22)
PASSAGE
Swift bird, fly on.
Let your strong wings
carry you to new, unknown places.
I will follow you with trust and love,
a passenger shielded beneath those
sure, fanned wings.
Swift bird, fly on.
Let your strong wings
carry you to new, unknown places.
I will follow you with trust and love,
a passenger shielded beneath those
sure, fanned wings.
(prev. pub. in Medusa’s Kitchen, 12/6/23)
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
REACH OUT
—Linda Klein
A poem is like a paper airplane whizzing by.
Reach for it, and it will come to you.
It is a missile waiting to be called home.
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Linda Klein for today’s fine poetry!
A reminder that
Sacramento Poetry Week
continues—
see SacPoetryWeek.com/.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Sacramento Poetry Week
continues—
see SacPoetryWeek.com/.
For info about this and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
