credit – syngenta
Early July, her tail waves
of late-planted corn
as she prowls the rows
on the trail
of raccoon or hare
the corn parting
like so many waves
on the sea as she speeds
thundering along the hard
paws ringing like hooves.
Late July the corn
has caught on
that it needs to catch up;
her tail no longer visible
nor her moving a sway,
she is swallowed whole.
front cover – by wisinguppress
This exciting anthology has just been released by Wising Up Press.
Among 54 contributions covering a wide variety of topics in as many styles, appears my poem, ‘Full Circle,’ a snapshot of my relationship with my sister spanning some sixty years. You can see a trailer of the book here.
If you have siblings, no matter your age or connection with them, you will find something to touch, teach or tease you in this collection. You can ‘look inside‘ to see for yourself a sampling of the offerings.
Editors Heather Tosteson, Charles D. Brockett, Kathleen L. Housley, Kerry Langan, and Michele Markarian describe it thus:
Our families, especially our siblings, provide our first macrocosm. How much of that experience do we carry out into the world as part of our deepest, inchoate expectations of the world or of ourselves? What happens to us as adults when we return to these first numinous macrocosms trying to understand how they still shape our ways of being? Fifty-three talented contemporary writers share poetry, memoir, and story that help us explore these questions and invite us to deeper understanding, unexpected insights, release of old grievances and grief, and celebration of the mystery of the present moment which is so core to our early relations, that graced sense of community that often precedes language, insight, all the mechanisms of adult intimacy.
Next up in the Dog Days collection – another view of the turtle:
TURTLE AT THE POND
I first saw it sunning, a seeming
outcropping of sunbathed stone
so similarly conformed.
Distracted by my pup’s demands
I turned to stick, ball, her new routine
of splash, swim, retrieve;
shake, drop and roll. Each its own show,
the shake from ears down body
to the final wild twist of tail.
I could almost feel the scratch
of dried stubbled grass
easing the irritation of flies;
and I too dropped, tho’ didn’t roll,
eyes lazy on the pond’s stilled surface
seeing without appraisal a small head
curious and steady in its forward swim –
the turtle’s small eyes trained on us,
curious creatures at pond’s edge.
credit – rtf123
A barely six-inch bunny babe
fully focused on the feast at his feet
nibbled, stopped, lifted his head, returned
in silence sating need, oblivious
to the prowling pup inching step by measured step
her body stretched, tautly focused in high lunge –
shift one leg to mountain pose, bend, lift
arc forward, flex – each pose held in fine form
every muscle engaged aquiver, while bunny held
his own, fur yogini in child’s pose. Pup advanced inch by foot. Barely six feet left between.
… Continuing with the “Dog Days” collection, today I offer the first of two poems inspired by my hunter-dog’s interactions with representatives of the local lapine league:
Each time we step from the house
one hops provocatively into a bush;
another sits, so much brown rippled fur
breathing fast, a still life waiting
to spring into streak of white fluff
zig-zagging like a child’s toy
run amok; or full-out bounds
both light and wide, putting athletes
in mind of hard training hours –
the gait, strength, spring-dash reserves.
Each ball of fur extends skinny ears
a twitching radar of safety or flight
each a singular target for my dog
who lives this moment without memory
of the last – this eternal fantasy –
each rabbit a gauntlet thrown
at her feet, a challenge accepted
unaware that they are everywhere ‘round.