poetry – Nomadic Noesis

Onondaga Cave Revisited

My firstborn came to visit recently, staying for eight days. Due to the fact that I rarely call out from work, I had abundant PTO in my leave bank and was able to take off the entire time for a staycation. The spouse was also able to use vacation most of the days. And son the younger works from home, so was able to flex his hours.

We did a lot of nostalgic activities and generally had a blast playing tourist in our own area. This included a day trip to Onondaga Cave, a place I haven’t visited in at least 15 years, though I did write a poem about it once. It had been long enough that the tour was fresh and new to me, for the most part. And even the bits I remembered were still awe inspiring, well worth a revisit.

Walkways and handrails inside a very large cave system — walking paths/handrails

Stairway inside a tourist cave, with pillars rising on either side. — walking paths/handrails

Onondaga cave is immense. Though there are a couple of places where adults need to duck a little, there’s no crawling, climbing or ropes involved in the exploration. Trails and handrails have been put in, and there’s an option to sit out the steepest part of the tour. Still, you need to be able to do some hills and stairs and to be on your feet for quite a while. If you’re able to do that, it’s a fascinating place to visit.

Since it’s operated by the Missouri Department of Conservation (incidentally, one of the top state conservation departments in the country), it’s well maintained with an eye to preserving a healthy ecosystem. That means there are no tours during bat hibernation season. A piece of good news we learned from our guide is that bat populations are starting to rebound after being nearly decimated by white-nose syndrome.

Some of my favorite spots on the tour:

Two large pillars--onne white, one rust colored--rising from a cave floor. — The Twins (cave pillars)

Cave formations - pillar and "curtains" — The Twins (cave pillars)

Saving my very favorite for last — the Lily Pad Room, where mineral deposits sitting in a pool of water take the shape of lily pads. It’s breathtaking.

Inside a cave, flat rock formations in water look like lily pads

I’ll finish by sharing the poem I mentioned. This was published a few years ago in “Eternal as a Weed: Tales of Ozark Experience.”

Onondaga Cave

This race is indeed not to the swift
and is not a race.
Today we like speed. The whole world
in an instant with a keystroke.
Third-graders: do 100 addition problems
in five minutes. Speed proves competence.
Service so quick you’ll quake,
or something like that.
Nobody should wait.
The gravest sin is to slow others down.
That’s above ground.

Enter this cave and the standards invert.
Muse upon the mighty stalagmites.
Take in the tightly clinging stalactites.
Marvel at the pace of growth, an inch per hundred years.
One. Inch. Per. One. Hundred. Years.
That’s where the awe comes in.
If they formed at a fast clip, we’d chop them out,
carry them off, stack them in our garages,
intending to use them in a craft someday.
There would be no sense of wonder.
The slowness makes it so.
Speed wins the day, persistence the millennia.

Two Thousand Miles – Mother’s Day Poem

Well, my two kids grew up, and I’m not sure why they did that to me. I still love them. Anyhow, here’s a little poem I wrote for Mother’s Day.

Two Thousand Miles

There was a child who used to cling to me
as if he were made of suction cups
Now he lives two thousand miles away

I inched away with stealth from the bed where
he slept to have a moment in my own skin
Now he lives two thousand miles away

I drove through the city in the dark more
than once to bring him home earlier than planned
Somehow now he’s two thousand miles away

I turned my head, and he inched with stealth
then leapt so far so fast to find his own skin
and landed two thousand miles away

I want him to be where I see him on my phone
the mountains, the beach, a life of his own
I pretend it’s not that far—two thousand miles away

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms and mom figures, whether you are in the thick of child raising, empty nesting it or something else.

Christmas Season Thoughts: What a Time to Have a Baby

Merry Christmas, from my family to yours!

I look at some of my younger acquaintances who are starting families, and my heart breaks a little. I can’t imagine starting out my parenting journey in the world as it is now. The difficulties they will face, the battles they will have to fight.

I don’t say this to them, however. Maybe because I remember oldsters saying it when I was having my children, back in the mid to late 90s. And I heard it again when the internet came along and we had to be the first generations of parents ever to figure out how that fit into child raising.

We don’t get to choose the times in which we live. We only get to choose how we respond. I know plenty of Millennials and Gen Z who are foregoing parenthood, some due to the political and/or actual climate. I respect that. But I also respect and support my younger crew who are choosing to hope enough to go ahead and have the baby they want. I mean, is it ever really the opportune moment to bring a child into this messed up world?

Look at Mary. I’m sure there were people who saw a hugely pregnant teenager, not even able to secure lodging, and shook their heads. And with Herod in power? Didn’t she know how likely it was they would become refugees in pretty short order? Who would she expect to accept and take them in? What a time for anyone to have a baby.

Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote that I’m pretty sure I’ve shared before. It seems pretty relevant right now. (It’s an abecedarian poem, by the way.)

All the Troubles and Yet

All the troubles everywhere, yet a
Baby brings joy, each new
Child in my circle a welcome
Discovery that the world goes on
Each one accepted as the
Finest example of what the universe offers
Greeted with adoration and wonder
Heralded with hope
Imagine receiving that level of tenderness
Just for being, freely given
Love with no expectations
Meaning found simply in connection
No earning it or losing it
Only a thereness
Produced because it’s how we survive
Quarrels most certainly will arrive
Right along with disappointments
Suffering and sickness
There’ll be time to think on those
Upsets later, rather than wasting the
Velvet days of infancy with our minds
X number of years in the future
Youth speeds away but comes
Zipping back to humanity again and again

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! May we be able to keep our focus on love and support for those in need, and may we celebrate the most vulnerable among us.

Thanksgiving Poem: I Made You a Plate

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Here’s a poem I wrote around three years ago, around Thanksgiving time. I hope everyone is having a day full of blessings.

I Made You a Plate

I made you a plate.
So much better than vibrating the air
With the voice sounds of
“I love you.”

I made you a plate.
I thought of you, specifically you.
I think of you even when
You are not in the room.

I made you a plate.
I saw you hungry and fed you.
I saw you unable to join and wanted
You not to be lonely.

I made you a plate.
Even if you can’t participate at the
Specified place and time
You are still in community.

I made you a plate.
I do not take you for granted
Nor the task you are doing
That keeps you from the feast.

I made you a plate.
In assembling the food, I recalled
Noticing your likes and dislikes.
I care for your comfort, your happiness.

I made you a plate.
I brought you a piece of love
From each person who cooked and shared.
You are not abandoned.

What greater love is there than this?
I had your back.
I made you a plate.

Independence Poem and Playlist

I celebrate Independence Day complete with watching fireworks. Despite the major flaws of many of the country’s founders in overlooking the equality of certain races and genders, I believe in the core idea of people forming the government and everyone having a say. But I’m troubled by what passes for patriotism in some circles these days as well as the backward movement on human rights. Anyway, here’s a poem I wrote and a playlist I curated for the day.

Allegiance

The city filled with flags proclaims
its puffed up patriotism
the billowed colors clamoring
for adoration, for awe.

The crest of a cardinal catches
my eye instead, my loyalty pledged
to saving it, to a future of
scarlet feathers brightening trees.

A constellation of white wood
anemones on the creek’s bank
garners my allegiance, my hope
for beauty in the years to come.

The first blueberries of the year
bring with them a taste of wonder
and a wish for a republic
filled with enough fruit for all.

Tomatoes, roses, rainbow stripe,
great whales, clean snow, and polar bears,
blue morpho butterflies, clear skies –
all things for which I take a stand.

**
And my playlist, in large part celebrating those who have been historically excluded.

Happy Independence Day!

Poem: A Little Party Every Day

Photo by Jess Bailey Designs on Pexels.com

We did it, folks! Thanks to donations from several people, my poetry raised $270 for the City of Refuge. I don’t yet know the total raised from all poets participating in the Poem-a-Thon.

I wrote to the prompt today, for my final poem. “…write something about celebrations–an event you celebrate, or how you celebrate. How do you turn the everyday into a festive occasion?” This is a little rough, but I can polish it later.

A Little Party Every Day

I try to have a little party for myself every day – good advice from a random stranger on the internet.

I made it through the workday
without crumbling and my legs are strong.
My phone is the portal to a million songs
enough reason to dance, swaying
to one upbeat tune before engaging
with pots and pans and chopping knives.
Pop a sparkling water and raise a glass
to snuggly cats and exams passed
as my loves share the small joys of their lives.
For enduring my dreaded recurring chore —
clipping coupons and meal planning
squeaky cart wheels and standing in line —
discount flowers from the grocery store.
A donut on the deck, stationed
for a prime view of the pollinators
darting and busy from color to color,
planting accomplished
and now a moment for observation.
A camp chair under the carport
with a cup of red rooibos tea
the joyful tap of rain above me
there’s time for a party, no matter how short.

Poem: This Like That, That Like This

It’s the penultimate day of the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. I had to send the bucket deep into the well to come up with anything today.

This Like That, That Like This

It’s funny how when I hear
tires whooshing along roadways
in the distance it can sound
like ocean waves rolling in
and out, the rhythmic pulsing
of air at steady intervals.
Maybe it’s my mind grasping
for the ancient familiar
to make sense of the now
or the impulse to create
categories – this like
that, that like this, a mirage
of mastery over what
is uncontrollable. Or.
It’s possible. A connection
is present in a real way
the great mechanism of
our running universe
providing the beat for all
we create and experience.

Poem: Continuance

Day 28 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. This is my most stream of consciousness poem so far, thinking about all the stuff happening everywhere.

Continuance

I sign petitions and people continue to suffer
I attend rallies and people continue to suffer
I hold signs, I write letters, I scrape ten dollars
From my bank account to help the cause
And maybe one person suffers a little less
I raise my voice against attacks
On the vulnerable and the attacks continue
The attacks continue but next to me
An ally is signing a petition
Community members are rallying for justice
Workers are sharing their hard-won earnings
To make the world less sick, more fair
And maybe a few people suffer a little less
And maybe a handful suffer a lot less
Suffering continues and attacks continue
And solidarity continues and the work continues
And sometimes joy breaks to the surface
And those who care continue to stand
Shoulder to shoulder because
What else is there to do

Poem: You, on the Riverbank

Getting my poem up late tonight. Entry 27 for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon is inspired by a memory of a camping trip with my husband.

You, on the Riverbank

On my early morning walk I sought
solitude on the path to the river
believing I wanted to be alone.
All went as desired until I turned
at the last bend and there you were
ahead of me, already taking in
the newly wakened sunbeams tapping
sparks on the water. You didn’t hear me
stop behind, gazing at you gazing
toward the far bank through the center
of a jagged wreath of willow leaves
perfectly shaped for the view, the light
glowing around your silhouette focusing
you at the center of the scene, all
the world I could see a frame for you.

Poem: The Hummers Tease

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In the home stretch. It’s day 26 of 30 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. I’m writing about hummingbirds today.

The Hummers Tease

The hummers drop hints
that they’ve returned
to the trumpet vines
one more year.
Tiny shadows blink
through green sinews
like floaters in my eye.
Look at them directly,
they disappear.
Orange blossoms are
not yet open.
Look elsewhere little
thimbleful of feathers.
Grow and come back in a week.
Then dangle your colors
before me as you feed
giving me more than a tease.

~~