Words: Goldfinches

thistle

voice

bright

shatter

GOLDFINCHES

 

Already the goldfinches 

are turning gold,

their bright voices 

shattering the gloom

of this long long spring.

Soon they will be darting

among the ripening thistles,

raising their young,

moulting back into brown.

Remember how quickly

time can pass.

Words: By Way of Contrast

coffeepot

filigree

chase

novel

 

BY WAY OF CONTRAST

Grandmother’s silver coffeepot—

fine filigree around the handle,

chasing and repoussé patterning the lid.

The matching creamer, 

sugarbowl with tongs.

Her white linen napkins,

bone china cups.

 

My Mr. Coffee maker.

My red ceramic sugar bowl

patterned with spirals and stars. 

My white creamer—novel souvenier

from Columbus, Ohio.

My red-checked tablecloth.

My heavy blue pottery mug.

Words: Play of Passing Shadows

warp

sidewalk

twisted

cave

 

PLAY OF PASSING SHADOWS

Seventy years and more in this cave

learning to weave. Firelight flickers

shapes on the walls, twisted shadows

of things unimaginable passing

on the sidewalk wound around

out under the sun, or so I’ve heard.

What is the sun but a bigger fire?

All I know is here: shuttle, warp.

The threads are given, the pattern mine.

EXILE

This is the result of a writing exercise I’m doing with a couple of friends. Each of us offers a word, and then each of us makes a piece of writing using those words.  

WORDS:

latitude    embroidery     coil

EXILE

How, you ask me, do I live?

I have come so far, so very far

 

from the earths that shaped my bones,

the people who gave me blood and breath.

 

I make my choices, hold my connections.

I wash my long gray hair in rainwater

 

I catch in a bowl in my garden.

I dry my hair in the sunshine,

 

brushing it in the warmth

and light, the way Matka taught,

 

the way my sisters do

in my home place, in my latitude

 

of memory. I plait a four-strand braid,

coil it around my head. One by one,

 

in ritual, I lift the bone hairpins 

from the linen pouch Babcia gave me

 

as she gave to each granddaughter. 

I think of her, remember her

 

working the red embroidery,

the five-petaled flowers,the long-tailed birds.