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: 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: Bridge

pedestrian bridge

Day 24/30 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. This feels pretty unfinished, but I’m calling it okay for tonight.


A wooden foot bridge spans the creek
that divides the park near my house
I raised my kids on this bridge
or so it seems when I stand on it now
recalling the span of their years
at the site of our former daily adventures
when adventures were daily
This bridge was a place to loiter and plan
to learn about ripples and gravity
as twigs and rocks dropped to the current
It was our place to wait and watch
the fish and crawdads and neighbors
and birds. Once on a cold day even
a great blue heron, a solitary event
the span of its wings startling in enormity
We always brought home stories
A bridge is not primarily for lingering
of course and the crossing seemed
an ever satisfying feat in a young life
a solid accomplishment
I was there on the other side
and now I’m here in a new place
with a clear line between the two.


Poem: To the Little Phlox That Could

Small phlox plant with purple flowers
Woodland Phlox

Here is entry number 21 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

To the Little Phlox That Could

You were devalued when first we met
at the hardware store, lonely
the one remaining woodland phlox
rejected by all who came before.
Only I was willing to take the chance
on your struggling, half-withered self
being in pretty much the same condition.
“It won’t last” – I could see that message
in the eyes of the cashier who united us.
I wasn’t a great bet either
have not logged a high success rate
with green growing things.
Yet I gave it my best and so did you.
Look at us now, you with your
amethyst petals bursting with pride
and me, not doing too bad my own self.


Haiku: Callery Pear

Photo by Alix Lee on Pexels.com

Day 19 of the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

I work a clopen shift at work Tuesday-Wednesday. So I’m always exhausted by the time I get off work on Wednesday. Today, I also spent half an hour moving dirt after work. All of this to say, it’s a haiku kind of day.

Callery pear, lace
covered beauty entices,
odor repulses


Poem: Marbled Orb Weaver

Entry 18 of 30 in the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon.

I have written about marbled orb weavers before on my blog, but this time I turned it into a poem.

Marbled Orb Weaver

Such a lovely day
even this bashful
leaf dweller couldn’t 
hold out against the yearning
to embark from the shadowy
security of its home
by the creek
and explore the delights
of the afternoon
carrying the sun on its back


Poem: Luxury Resort

Fancy resort lobby with stone walls.

Today’s entry for the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon is an ekphrastic poem. I followed the email prompt this time, which explains ‘”Ekphrasis” means “description” in Greek, and it has become the name of a kind of poem that describes a work of art.’ The email included a link to a site for random images and I used the first one. The image is a jumping off point for me. My poem is not meant to be an exact description.


Luxury Resort

Someone quarried the stone 
for the rustic walls.
Someone felled the trees
for the finely crafted
furniture carved by human hands.
The rugs were woven on a loom.
By whom?
The lovely potted plants did not
bring themselves to the setting.
Presumedly someone does the watering.
Authors and artists devoted
hours (months? years?) to the
creation of the coffee table books
that someone selected and someone packed
and someone delivered. 
How many workers labored 
to lay the granite floor?
Someone scaled ladders to hang the 
mood lighting, placing it just so.
Someone cleans it all
day after day after day.
Every 12 seconds someone remembers
that we’re all in this together.
So says the sign someone
hung near the entrance.


With Apologies to William Carlos Williams

Halfway there! Day 15 of the City of Refuge Poem-a-Thon. I was short on sleep last night and had to work all day. With little time or energy, all I came up with was this little light-hearted scrap about part of my day.

Apologies to William Carlos Williams and his red wheelbarrow.

Creating a Library Display

so much depends 

a green paper 

with a sharp 

beside the paper


Poem: Luna Enough Alone

Photo by SevenStorm JUHASZIMRUS on Pexels.com

Here’s my 14th entry in the 30-day Poem-a-Thon for City of Refuge. I have the moon on my mind.


Luna Enough Alone

Don’t mine the moon, that’s my advice
Not that anyone asked
Turn right around from that intention
I would say to anyone who listened
Is not the brightness in the dark
Enough for us or must we raid 
Luna for every resource
Is not the astonishing push
And pull on our tides help
Enough for our needs, enabling
Life on Earth and all, its lambent
Presence inspiring art and love
Can’t we allow ourselves
To leave wondrous enough alone