Not Enough …

Not enough sun
to thaw the ice
sticking to deck-timber.

Not enough sun
to melt the icing-sugar
dusting the clover.

Not enough sun
to warm the birds’ backs
enticing them to linger.

Not enough sun
to keep the iced stone bath
bearing only water.

Not enough sun
to heat my icy heart
this cold November.

Kathleen Mortensen©2016

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NaPoWriMo – Day 2

What You Are

As a child
the stars held little interest for me,
except to sing of their twinkling.
I didn’t care that they
lit up the sky at night;
(I was born under the sign
of a bright moon.)

As I grew,
I knew that Polaris
was the great North Star
(maybe that’s why I wore
those runners).

Like all around me
I was aware of the Bear—
the Majors and the Minors,
the two big pots
dipping into nocturnal ink.

Then, in my youth,
the myth collapsed—
I learned it was all just gas.

Now I’m older.
We live where the sky amasses itself
like a cloak, when the sun
drops out of sight.
We look up
and embrace the gift
of each gold star’s tiny light.

skat©2015

Lazarus Revisited

A couple of Sundays ago, Kevin drew my attention to what we thought was a silvery toad, that seemed to be stuck to a nook in the stairs to our deck.  I touched its cold back gingerly, but it didn’t move a muscle.  Naturally, we assumed it was dead, and proceeded to mourn it with the usual murmurs of regret.

Kevin headed back to the garage at the front of the house, while I proceeded to water in some of our new plantings.  A thought struck me, and I decided to give the “toad”, a gentle spray with the hose (don’t ask me why!). Much to my surprise, the toad began to move in a 45 degree angle towards the spray!  I was ecstatic, and called to Kevin to come and see.

Of course, as it was Sunday, and the readings at church had concerned the revivifying of a dead man, I christened the toad, Lazarus.

I managed to pick Lazarus up and carry him to the bottom of the garden, near St. Francis, where it is really boggy.  He quickly settled in under the fronds of the goats’ beard we had planted there.

An internet search revealed that our “toad” was actually a “Grey Tree Frog” who had not turned green.

A few hours later, when I checked the spot, he had vanished!  I was chagrined.

Today, we were out in the backyard and I was just putting down some pots of plants that will be going in the garden soon, when Kevin again called to me.  This time, “Lazarus” was sitting in the sun, on the bit of trough that extends out from the side of the house.  He was much greener now before (in fact, he seems to have gotten bigger too, and he may NOT be Lazarus at all).  I shall call him, Ra since he does seem to love the sun.

I think Lazarus and Ra will be quite happy when we put this spider plant into the ground with the goats’ beard.

Last night we spotted a Meadow Vole underneath the fence.  I think it will be much harder to get a photo of him.  He’s quite shrew-like, so he has been given the name, Petruchio. Get it?

A poem on deception

SECRETS AND LIES

Lies roll
       off your tongue  
              like the tides run
                     under a lunatic moon.

You can’t control them anymore
         than the sun can cease to burn
                ’til the hand of God snuffs it out.

How many more will you tell, to protect
your secrets?

 

Kat Mortensen©2011 Protected by Copyscape DMCA Takedown Notice Checker

SECRETS AND LIES

Lies roll
       off your tongue  
              like the tides run
                     under a lunatic moon.
You can’t control them anymore
         than the sun can cease to burn
                ’til the hand of God snuffs it out.
How many more will you tell, to protect
your secrets?

Kat Mortensen©2011 Protected by Copyscape DMCA Takedown Notice Checker