On Silvernail Farm
(Evening, past sunset, moon rising)
by Margaret Zamierowski
How beautiful the mountains!
The light, shadows soften
In the trees, purple gray cast
To the clouds. Lawn and fields,
Flowers and gardens, barn and
Tractor, it's a lovely place to be.
The light, shadows soften
In the trees, purple gray cast
To the clouds. Lawn and fields,
Flowers and gardens, barn and
Tractor, it's a lovely place to be.
How I longed for this many
Years ago: a clear sky
Gusts of wind taking up limbs
Of trees tossing, bouncing
Leaves awry dropping them, still,
Quiet, in twilight now small birds sing.
Years ago: a clear sky
Gusts of wind taking up limbs
Of trees tossing, bouncing
Leaves awry dropping them, still,
Quiet, in twilight now small birds sing.
How the night comes on, holds me
Soft. Wind sounds soothe my soul
Stroke my skin, can I begin
Again? Feel the embrace
Of time and place and being
Still, and bring my heart what it wants most.
Overheard Conversation
by Rod Aldrich
The pair of geese flew low over
the trees and housesalong the suburban street.
The sky glowed around them,
above the dark land,
as they flew west
where the sun was hiding rapidly.
When I first heard them nattering,
I could hear the tone and rhythm before the words.
The one on the left warbled in a bass voice
and the one on the right honked regularly
in a calm alto.
The old couple was headed down the valley
toward two more ponds before the big river.
The male,
being older,
grumbled about the slim pickings
in the shallows along the tiny stream
up the valley
and the fact she'd insisted they
fly down this way before dark.
She reminded him
of how she'd led them
to open water all winter,
and how the night air would cool less
on a big pond
or along the eastern shore of the big river.
He complained he was tired
from all that reaching down
to find the new growth of submerged plants
on the silty and gravelly bottom.
She reminded him to be thankful
for the long days of sun
which come before the air
stays warm throughout the night
and the land plants catch up
to their wavy drenched brethren
that feed them today.
He groaned about his breast and back muscles
which had flown countless strokes
over the years.
She told him to shut up and glide.
The cold ached down
as only an evening chill can
from a clear spring sky,
while they drifted and luffed out of ear shot.
where the sun was hiding rapidly.
When I first heard them nattering,
I could hear the tone and rhythm before the words.
The one on the left warbled in a bass voice
and the one on the right honked regularly
in a calm alto.
The old couple was headed down the valley
toward two more ponds before the big river.
The male,
being older,
grumbled about the slim pickings
in the shallows along the tiny stream
up the valley
and the fact she'd insisted they
fly down this way before dark.
She reminded him
of how she'd led them
to open water all winter,
and how the night air would cool less
on a big pond
or along the eastern shore of the big river.
He complained he was tired
from all that reaching down
to find the new growth of submerged plants
on the silty and gravelly bottom.
She reminded him to be thankful
for the long days of sun
which come before the air
stays warm throughout the night
and the land plants catch up
to their wavy drenched brethren
that feed them today.
He groaned about his breast and back muscles
which had flown countless strokes
over the years.
She told him to shut up and glide.
The cold ached down
as only an evening chill can
from a clear spring sky,
while they drifted and luffed out of ear shot.
Deck View
by Elizabeth Reid
Daily the regulars come to the feeder--chickadee, nuthatch, tufted titmouse, downy and hairy woodpeckers, the hummingbirds.
We had to move the hummingbird feeder as it filled the dining area of the deck with yellow jackets. Now we look down on the green backs of the hummingbirds from the kitchen window...
I caught a snapshot of the great blue heron through the railings of the lower deck.
Today the trees just beyond the deck thrilled with cedar wax wings.
Today I want to be a poet.
Most days just being a bird watcher from the deck will do.
But the cedar wax wings drop in, in the spring and the fall.
The willow is full of their fluttering.
Daily sustenance turns into the change of season feeling.
Sad, beautiful, deeply touching and exciting
When nature brings in a new view.
