Forest Meditation

Dawn’s first bright breath ignites the tops of trees

like torches.  Hiking on the trail, the sun’s

insistent rays warm my back through my coat

like comforting heat in winter from a campfire.

I let my shadow lead the way until  

I drop below the ridge where morning chill

and sudden forest silence shiver me.

Tall cedars, close together, stand straight, a stately

august grove of Elders in rusty light.

Across the path a single shaft of sun

breaks over the ridge, through the gloom and strikes

a lone white birch, still wet with rain the night

before, its heat creating steam, incense  

to every forest Spirit dwelling there.

Diner Blues

Janie Bella is a waitress.

She’s always on her feet.

Lift heavy trays, small tips, guys’ hits –

at quitting time she’s beat.

It’s hard to be a woman alone

Dragging along a stone

Shop for groceries going home. 

His only welcome a grunt.  

No dinner cooked or faucet fixed.

She’s tired of accepting the brunt.

           

It’s hard to be a woman alone

Putting up with a stone

The trash not emptied, harsh words yelled.

Fix dinner, clean the place,

run the washer, help with homework,

to bed a frazzled case.                  

It’s hard to be a woman alone   

Dragging along a stone

Alarm at five, quick shower, coffee.

Repeat the day again.   

No respite from the constant grind,   

Gets no respect, plain Jane.

She’s proud to be a woman alone

She does not need this stone

It's been a good couple of weeks

It's been a good couple of weeks for recognition of my poetry. October 23, 2014.  

It's been a good couple of weeks for recognition of my poetry.  On September 20th the Maine Poetry Society (MPS) awarded "The Perfect Wall" first prize in it's contest where the poem was about a wall(s).  "Diner Blues" received first honorable  mention in MPS contest to write a ballad .  

On October 18th "Yellow Goat's Beard" won the 2nd place from the Mary Margaret Audette memorial award conducted by the Poetry Society of Vermont (PSOV).  In addition, "Forest Meditation" was received a tie vote of the membership for 3rd at it's fall meeting.  

I continue to be heartened by the reception of my poetry by MPS, PSOV, friends and family.  Contests help me check that my poetry is technically competent and that it connects emotionally with anyone beside myself.       

The Perfect Wall

This dry wall was designed by a master mason.

He quarried shist, and cut each stone to the inch,

to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle,

to make a split in-line sixty foot bench

– individual stones like scales on a giant snake –

to grace the lawn between the house and meadow.               

The break between the pair directs the eye’s arc               

a quarter mile down the pasture like an arrow      

to boundary trees and ever changing mountains.

Its axis bisects our pond in perfect symmetry.  

This wall wasn’t meant to keep things in or out.    

Its sun warmed rocks are homes for frog and snake,

a hunting roost for bluebird, robin, wren,   

while mosses cling to its shaded northern face.

Alone on the wall, I have watched bluebirds fledge,           

turkey broods cross the meadow at sunset, deer graze

in early morning fog, unquiet hawks hunt.

It’s stark, enduring in the summer sun,                               

in winter, wind whipped snow waves gently blunt  

its flanks in ever shifting drifts.  This brace

of open monuments anchor landscape and people.

Its level line creates reflective space.