Hey, look! I’m back. Soon, I’ll post about what has consumed my time the past several months, but today I want to show everyone some more little art around my neighborhood. I live in such a creative community, I find new pieces around the area all the time in my perambulations.
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This is very near my house. The display changes occasionally.
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Purple iris are in the running for my favorite flower, maybe because my mother loved them. Naturally, I like this stepping stone.
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If you must have a pipe sticking up in your yard, might as well turn it into art.
Get outside for a while if you can. It’s a good place to be.
I achieved my bicycling goal of making it all the way to the nearly 400-year-old bur oak, the one my husband visits every weekend. That’s about a 22-mile round trip. I’ve been working on building my cycling stamina, riding a little farther each outing. Today, I just kept going until I was there. The hubs was kind enough to slow his pace so I could keep up. Then I left for home earlier than he did.
I will admit the last three to four miles of the return trip were a struggle. I imagined myself the subject of one of those old times folk ballads about a person on an arduous journey who makes it through all sorts of hazards, only to drop dead within sight of their destination. But instead, I’m here at my keyboard, writing my own story.
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.
I was walking home from work this evening when I heard a cacophony, a racket, an avian hullabaloo. I tried not to think Hitchockian thoughts as I wondered what was up with those birds. So what is up with those birds?
Despite the amount of time since I’ve posted about it, I do still walk regularly. This evening’s walk was especially enjoyable because WE HAVE RAIN! Excuse my excitement. We’re several inches behind where we should be this time of year. Even if I hadn’t been able to find my umbrella, I probably would have gone out anyway.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.