Outside in

Ice limns the limbs
of the hawethorn tree outside -
inside, chocolate steams in the cup.
 

The door pushes open
and in comes the crowd,
laughing about carbohydrates.

It would take digging, not coins
to unhide the ones snuggled
in the roots of a winter-neutral tree.

Oh sweets, oh sticky budburst, oh
blossoms, oh pollen, oh honey!
But that will have to wait.

For now, stir the pot, raid the
truffle sample, sniff the scent
of tea as it brews.

Outside the window, en glacé,
winter broods, making plans for
flower and fruit confections. You'll see.

news from a small town 6, February 2013

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