Sunday Saving Daylight — NaPoWriMo6

Eyes still shut
I awake to the practiced, stolen
tunes of the mockingbird chief
outside my window;
I love his
teachery ways.
My sleepy ears enthralled
by his youngliings’ answers:
in tune, if not on key.

A crunch of leaves,
already sun-dried in April,
disguises the crack of a bat
and briefly the rustle
of fifty Moms cheering
in the stands;
I break open soft-boiled eyes
and imagine shadows of children
swinging bats for arms and mitts for hands.

A glance at the clock
reminds me time has changed;
by summer schedule
I’m up early even
without counting the hour I’ve lost,
but I envy my mockingbird
his timeless choir practice
that runs on angles of light
not on the hands of a clock.
~LD

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Letter Home — a poem

my tree

first flowering after the big freeze of 2011 — this tree is now less than half its original size, but flowering again. Anyone know what kind of tree it might be?

The workaday world winds its way in wonder,
wilty-eyed workers drive on
Under whistling stars and winking moon

my inheritance 2012

Taken from the roof into the Mike and Amanda’s back patio…this sun is hanging in my dining room now, sans duckie. =*(

Fine, just fine
The way the sun comes up
Behind the backs of the mountains
Who roll back over and return to dream oblivion
They’ll never know that there was anything to miss

In full sun, the dusty haze of autumn
Begins to collect in the valleys
‘tween here and the ancient hills
behind the steam rising from my coffee mug

Grinding away at stones
We meet and greet
Smile and nod,
We understand and sympathize
Adolescent voices all a-clamor
Adolescent bodies reflect against
each other all unknowing
Like electrons and heat mirages

All summer’s sins sink satisfied against
cliffs’ skin, before the winds sweep in
Brush of winter chill hovers near
Cooler days to come
Will clear the dust from the air
Leaving the day to day
As it always was

the rainy season

All three of these photos are mine, and I accept all blame. =)

The workaday world winding its way in wonder,
wilty-eyed workers driving on
Under whistling stars and winking moon.

~LD

Poem, write me

A couple of weeks ago, in a dull moment, and passing 1,000 tweets on Twitter, I decided to collect up all the tweets I’d ever tweeted and “do something” with them.  (The full document is nine pages!) This week’s post is the first product, though after culling and sorting, it’s clear that there are two or three or more other possible pieces left to go.  I’d call this still in draft form, but it is nearing completion.  I suspect I don’t use Twitter the way it was intended, but that’s the beauty of the internet: its uses are fluid.

Quickie translations for non-bilingual readers: chanate = crow; chencho = local word for mockingbird; golondrina = barn swallow; margarita = daisy; and colibrí = hummingbird. Have a great week! ~LD

Poem, write me

Monday morning, full moon falling
lullaby stars
shrinking into desert flame
a hundred thousand dreams fall together,
dangling by a thread of ether —
Wide universe, slow move, fast dance, long sleep.
The stars have barely risen and still
the night insists on ending
Moon don’t say goodnight…
morning comes up around the sun, chilled by starlight.

Golondrina, chanate, chencho, margarita –
daylight, daydreams, dabbling free
in elderly sunlight…
Oaks, cedars and sycamores…
flycatchers, house wrens and inca doves…
I would like to be in the barn swallow coffee klatch
‘tween greens and feathers there’s no room for bad news.

Chanate sawing, chencho singing
Chencho, chencho,
where do you go,
when the sun is high and leaves are burning?
Checho, chencho,
where do you go,
when the moon is low?

Colibrí love on the porch
before the heat gets high;
covetous cats chattering cheerfully;
strings of mimosa flowers
doodle bug houses of sticks and mud —
to be only four again
when “backyard” meant freedom!

Save poems for another day — full moon, full moon!
Trapping moonbeams with my fingers
Moon in my hands,
sun in my eyes,
dust in my lashes,
poems dribble over my lips,
to fall and break on my pen like glass.
There’s my old friend, the moon…