Category: Community

My Neighbor

.

The neighbor is replacing his roof

smothering even more the life that exists

between himself and the sky.

.

The men he has hired to climb ladders

to make his house taller

sit on his front porch for lunch.

.

One of their wives has brought them

sandwiches in her van. Why does she come

in honor of lunch, an excuse to break the day in half?

.

Journey across town, just to wipe

The mustard from his fat top lip.

It’s sweet when she kisses the roofer in the shade

Goodbye and she talks about where she needs to be next.

~~

Engaging Mountains

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We started our hike later than we should have.

Noon was breaking and the sky clear.

.

Past the deep spruce forest only two miles into the hike.

We began the scramble, through a gate only a few were permitted to go.

.

Karins weren’t so easy to see. For a while

after each blaze we scoured up the red rock

hoping each step was put forth in correct effort.

.

Moving at the pace of the sun

the top kept moving from us.

Over every false summit

finally seeing tiny black people against the sand and sky.

The effort so tiring was giving hope.

.

Up the last mile of ash we moved

one step for every two,

sinking into the volcano herself.

.

In the thirty years since she’d last erupted

new ecosystems were growing.

We climbed young glaciers with our movement

both strong and pervasive.

.

My boyfriend always two steps taller than me,

leading us over to on top of this landscape.

.

The physical strain was our gratitude to nature,

our passage into a clear being,

an intuitiveness between the trees,

gravity and our thoughts so easily aligned.

.

From that height nature opened her mouth,

the center of the volcano still steaming.

Small rocks falling into the cauldron.

.

Our exhaustive effort giving awe to God,

the sky, the mountains that rose close

enough for us to see and name.

.

We were more thankful with our physical effort behind us.

And at that height, of first climbing a mountain,

a living volcano, the boy asked me to marry him.

 ~~

I was Looking

.

Tired legs in the middle of August,

but I write from deep December

said yes to India

Let her float me away in the beautifully adorned air balloons.

I stared up, stared far, and let the unsettling faults dissolve from me.

.

It began to snow this morning

let me stay to myself

deep shadows

different from yesterday

to be kept in only one day

before melting

.

Today is suddenly more special

stumbling on something

I forgot existed.

.

I go to this land of beauty

and boxes of gold

to leave something

let them know I was looking

.

Like snow on cars and streets

I see where they were walking

when they were driving.

And I enjoy knowing

more than I should.

 

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Silver Fox Pottery opens the kiln to find these treasures below!

Photo below by SFP.

~

60 Hour Fire

They are slowly burning the house

small kindling held, considered

then thrown into the throat of the fire

cords of wood, floor to ceiling in the living room

the linoleum of the kitchen pulling up

from the misstepped foot

cords in the kitchen, cords holding

up the unsturdy second floor.

~

Cords of wood in an old house

No, they really aren’t burning the house down. 🙂

Images by locavore.ca & Visual Photos & Surface and SurfacePhotography Gallery & Mark Fuchs below, whose image is of another beautiful home nearby falling apart.