The Back Yard

They sketched out their plans
for the back yard on the paper
table cloth while dining at a local
restaurant, posting it that
night on the refrigerator of
their first home.
Zucchini, tomatillos, leeks,
lettuce, tomatoes, corn, the list
stretched well down the page,
on top of already
existing rose bushes, a grape vine,
and various unidentified
brambley bushes.
It’s just Spring now, energy
is flowing deep and strong.

Seedlings are sprouting

from peat pots lined up

under fluorescent bulbs in the

bedroom closet.
We drank wine and discussed
composting, mulches, water.
They are young and optimistic,
their yard will become a
beautiful garden.

A Nerds' Wedding

It wasn’t that they were a
month behind when they
married on March 14,
nor was it a random toss of
the dice that they declared
their undying devotion at
exactly 1:59 p.m.
They did not lovingly
feed each other a divine
slice of wedding cake,
opting instead for a piece
of simple apple pi.

.

Photograph courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/slaff/3346407783/

Thanks for Scott Robertson for sharing this story of the wedding he just attended.

Not a crumb

yesterday
the bag was mostly empty,
but I looked forward
to eating the last crumbs
with a tall glass of milk
when I got home
tonight.
I opened the cupboard
and not only were there
no crumbs, there wasn’t
even a bag to be found.
I know who stole my
cookies, and he knows,
too.

Au Revoir, Les Enfants

Au Revoir, Les Enfants

it was snowing that January day
when the Nazis led Jean away,
his dark curls poking out from
under his black beret.
I’ll never forget his last look,
that combination of loss and
resignation, of knowing and
confusion.
There was no sign of
accusation for when I looked
back at him, afraid for him,
when the Nazis raided
our school that morning.
We also said good bye to Père,
as he said good-bye to us,
Au revoir, les enfants,
ne les oublions jamais,
let us never forget.

.

Photograph courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/simpleorchards/248954300/

Raccoons

Raccoons

They are creeping out from the
storm sewers, yawning after a
long torpor cuddled up with
their newborn young, all voracious,
seeking food, no matter where,
no matter how.
I see one in the dusk on the
bare branches of the tree,
looking towards me and then
away at possible pickings in the
neighbor’s yard.
I growl, low and threatening
and she looks back at me,
eyes wide open, remembering
last summer when we had it out,
that raccoon, her kin, and me.
Last year, I kept my grapes and peaches.
I intend the same this year.

Dusk in Springtime

the evenings
are soft and warm,
we sit on front porches
watching the horizon turn
from blue to orange,
rose to grey,
fading to darkness,
we watch the moon
cross the sky
before we reluctantly
go inside, chilled to
the bone.

.

(Shocking..the picture is actually mine.)

The Apple

The Apple

The instructor set up the still
life for her students to paint;
a single apple she pulled
from her handbag.
A difficult subject, with its
smooth exterior and limited
contrast; it would keep the
students occupied while
she scanned the want ads
for additional work.
She was hungry eating only
a single apple for lunch every
day.
The students struggled over the
apple, shifting their easels in
attempts to find a view that
would heighten the contrast
or make the shape more distinctive.
The instructor saw them struggling
and she was hungry.
At noon, she let the students
take a lunch break,
and ate the apple.

Photograph courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/kwerfeldein/3348223141/