winter wish


credit - Cynthia Brackett-Vincent

credit – Cynthia Brackett-Vincent

Appears in current Fall/Winter 2013/2014 issue of Aurorean (inspired by ‘Imbolc,’ by Miriam Dyak)!

I want to regress into a world of fur and blood,
slow breathing hibernating me through the long cold
of winter, the way my dog, happy

in her hours of cuddled blanket sleeps the days
from meal to meal, oblivious to the clock’s turning
or the span of hunger that would stretch

into months were I not to feed her, walk, and feed again, releasing her back into the sleeping hours of fur
her pulse slowed by darkened hours of rest.

turn of the crew

We hear them a-honk downwind
before seeing their disarray
as if group will trumped instinct

and yet, their intent is clear
as they circle in ragged clusters,
change course, and finally

plant themselves in the far field
among severed stalks of cropped corn.
We hear them mutter, settle

and by the time we reach them
find an installation of identity
each neck standard height above stubble

each head turned, statue still, facing west
and our oncoming steps. Even
though I know what will ensue,

I am unprepared for the flap of wings
roaring them, lifted as one,
back to their southbound flight.


we must begin to listen

graphic from Piercy poem

Once again, I need to lift Parker Palmer’s Facebook post and plant it here. Not only does he state beautifully what I might try to re-state less deftly. He uses one of my all-time favorite poems by Marge Piercy to illustrate his point. In the interest of sharing the already-invented and of honoring my “Con Fem Friday” post theme, here is an excerpt from Parker; and the full text of Marge’s poem.

He says: “If we value things like friendship, family, community, education, workplaces that work, and democracy, there’s a minimum requirement. We must learn to talk with each other, even when we disagree. Not ‘at’ each other, or even ‘to’ each other; but WITH each other!”

Parker goes on – but I want to share lines from Marge’s poem that speak strongly to me – and hopefully to you, as well:

We must sit down …

Perhaps we should sit in the dark.
In the dark . . .
only the words
would say what they say…

into the dark, perhaps we could begin
to begin to listen…

The men must bother to listen.
The women must learn to say, I think this is so.
The men must learn to stop dancing solos on the ceiling…

Read the entire poem here:  COUNCILS – Marge Piercy

And thank you for listening!