Birthday – August Poem 31

mist_gardenI was born during a
thungerstorm.  That’s
what they told me, anyway.  It was
10:32 PM and storming .
I could have started
with “It was a dark
and stormy night.” But
I didn’t. It looks
like the weather is getting
ready to celebrate tonight
with rain and thundering – HAPPY
BIRTHDAY!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Idlewild, Michigan – August Poem #28

IMG_1024One red tree –
in a field of bracken.
can bracken be “a field
of…?”  Dead trees,
green pines green
poplars. The moss good
for dolls.
One red tree –
the beginning of autumn – the last
card for August.

 

 

 

Clothesline – August Poetry # 26

idlewild_clothesline

Hanging clothes on a line
strung between trees. All
connected, clothespin to
line to clothespin.

A squirrel hunter once charged
toward me through the woods.
Making me remember another
mother hanging a fluffy,
white mitten, mistaken for
a leaping whitetail deer.

I take down the slightly
stiff clothes, folding them into
the basket.

Country Living

postcard-4.5inx6.5in-h-front

“Their armies (apparently) can live on dropped cat kibble” – Paul Nelson

The sleeper couch full of

dog food, a chipmonk ran

over it on a loop – in the

foundation crack, over the

couch, ushered out the

window by my eight year old

son. We were slow learners, finally

stuffing steel wool into the

opening. End of his game. We

didn’t find the mouse storage

bin until the overnight guests

pulled out the bed. Country

living.

 

 

 

 

Sewing Machine – August Poem #23

sewing

Sewing machine

The sewing machine sits on
the table.

Mean-ma locks her children
outside, snowsuits tightly
zipped.

Tiny flowered fabric
I never finished
“it didn’t look like
me.”

Olive mini dress,
new afro
smiling on grandmother’s porch.

My sister’s blue sleeves sewn
backwards
while the ’67 riot raged
neighbors shared liquor from a
looted store.

My mother pouring rum out,
hammering the bottle to
bits.