Cuppa

Old elderberries still perfume the tea
with the bite of sun and rain and near misses.
Wrinkled with a seed full of strychnine, elderberries
rattle in my tea jar - perfect purple raisins that
dry rattle, that crunch as the stirrer snaps shut.
After the first frost, after a summer of drying on
cloth, after the wet rag wipes the stove clean,
take the cup to the table, let it sit a very long time,
if you are lucky, you will brew sweeter memories.

news from a small town 5, January 2013

Tame

refrigerator leavings
and fresh snow
that, lard, leftover
birdseed and
wild berries,
rosehips
from the tea stash
I freeze for thee, o
chickadee and sparrow,
finch, finch, finch, downy
woodpecker and yes
you starlings too, when
the flicker stops hanging
upside down
from my lilac tree.
the west is not
wild, and I am home
and warm, contemplating
store bought flour
for home made bread

news from a small town 4, January 2013

The plum can stay put (happy 100th, Bill Stafford)

The cold, the fog the snow -
especially from my window!

Here's a hot cup of tea and a fresh
biscuit, in hand. I don’t need to go
anywhere, til cabin fever sets in -
then I can. All chores are handled,
everything’s secure and safe. And
there’s the trampoline. Come jump.
The plum can stay put, no need
to imagine honors or the lack.

news from a small town 3, January 2013

Less tetchiness

This is the day tetchiness transcends
the illusion of I am - except
I can see right through it. Oh
how I annoy myself! Out in the snow,
song sparrows and juncos vie
for suet and fresh-spilled sunflower
seeds, and I imagine yet again
how to grow my own, how to
create wildlife feed in my garden
on purpose, mind you, come
next summer, and I consider once 
more, polite ways to ask deer
not to help themselves so early.
Why shouldn't they? And why chase
starlings? Less tetchiness, more peace.

news from a small town 2, January 2013

Feeding time

Like one chicken bossing another,
the brown horse picks at the white horse,
chases him round the snow-packed pasture
over frozen droppings and dormant grass,
and away, away from the latest drop off
of hay and grain and kickmeups.  All here
but the clucking and crowing - though
that gelding has a rooster's look in his eye.
It's all about the pecking order and who wins:
a nip and a snort; too cooped up for more.

News from a small town 1, January 2013