Sunday, May 22, 2011


that soft thunder: just rain
the roof shakes off
another spate

spring is

spring is coming/august is
just around the corner, you
can count on it, except when
you can’t. the feathers fly in
tasty quarrels over who gets
the banquets of seeds and 

early bugs; everything prowls
in designer plumage, even
the new batch of tourists
squawking about the view
and sunshine - or lack thereof.
love of winter, bits of suet
help pass the time til they don't.

beyond the season (qasida)

sturdy and sunlit
steam crawling the walls
to drip triumphantly
on the plants, the
wind-hole ajar
free radicles popping
in jars and baskets
have faith that all this grows -
but in case of burning summer
bring more water

Saturday, May 21, 2011

emptiness (qasida)

the moment the e-mail leaves
            will there be an
            answer or an
            acceptance or an

who the hell cares if I
            never hear again
            never see again
            never ever again?

a soft ping. the moment has come
            is anyone home?
            are you alone?
            my reply now awaits

hunting the fresh-plowed pasture

crow in one talon,
buzzed by the mate : redtail
off the nest, hunting

Sunday, May 15, 2011

spring timpani

does the tick of my old clock
sound like thunder to the wall spider
trembling on her web above the fireplace
where the feather duster never reaches?

outside a rattle of rain and hail interspersed with -
you know the drill, first the flash and then the thunder.
once upon a time the boys all called me Flash -
but only for the camera, never for the centerfold picture.

and the resonance of egos and bruises
rumbles down the web to this day, when the rain falls
to the roof that is mine and the life that is mine - do
with them what I want to. another bang, another crash.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

spaces in between

what if you couldn’t count the moments between light
and thunder? what would that spaciousness tell you?
would it be the pride that goeth before a drama?
would you smile or cower? or would you be attending
to the magical message of the big noise your own
heart beat makes, the shock of each new thought, the
wave of peace that rumbles after? and then the fire….

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

news from the first violet green swallow of the year

firsts come in many flavors
returning with the seasons
first sight of the day
first sighting of the year
first sound of dawn chorus
first sounding of the heart
first taste of adventure
first tasting of the anticipated
first eyes
first scent of what comes next

telling fortunes

cross my palm with silver or perhaps
just yellow, for I will pay
in dandelion blooms and tea bits
in a cracked old cup -
for it is May and I seek my fortune,
fate, kismet, and dates and figs
with muhallabia and rose syrup -
or perhaps something more.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

clocked at 94

when the wind comes down the canyon -
disarray! there are thoughts like that, over
and over. if we had a weather map, it would
show a low, followed by a high,again and
again. through life, the systems swell on
through, coiling over the ridges and knocking
at the doors, the roofs, the windows. let's ride
the jet stream of living like condors, taking
the long view if we can. the disturbance
that destroys creates new opportunities
for life/not life to wither or thrive. let's take
one more step out into the wind, and then ...

Friday, May 6, 2011

ode to nettles

not invited to the garden

“don’t fence me in!”

ode to milk

with butterfats
whole, part, skim -

there’s a hole in the fence! is your cow unpasteurized?


next door at the neighbors

Joy had gone joy riding as Joy does
staying out past curfew - which pisses off
the Mom and irritates the good-little-girl
sisters and friends – Meek, Mild and
of course Obedient (called Obie for short
even though she just hates that name.)
But Ornery - she just smiles.  Such drama
when barefoot-sneaking-in occurs. 
“But  Mo-ommm, at least I wasn’t
sneaking OUT at 3 a.m.!” Amen, says
the Boyfriend, listening from the street.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

transaction at register 5

small town grocery clerk
hands small town sheriff
a bill and smiles.
"that will be $80."
"looks like I'm the one
who gives the big ticket
this time!" he grabs
the sack and smirks.
"you know, I had
my eye on you
as you
drove past today
"oh... well.... um... "
it count that I waved?"
he grins and shifts the
bag. "
it’s the guilty ones

who wave the hardest."

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

above the valley

sharp folds of winter cornice
the mountain –

below, the bumblebees

at the treat shop in Joseph

standing in the treat shop 
showing nothing but what
is on display on purpose.
well, and so much for

that attempted deception!
look deeply in the bottom
of this tea cup: can you find
a desired future; a reclaimed
past - or better - exactly
what the moment brings.
make a choice; take your first
nibble with gusto! it isn’t all
about deserving: the good stuff.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

A season begun...

Spring's first swallows have blown through
  and struggle on these cold, wet, snowy mornings
    to find anything flying, resembling breakfast...
Meadowlarks almost sing when sun finds a hole
  as spinking sparrows and quieter relatives
     slip into the country, quietly hopeful.

Red fox pups dare the morning's dog traffic,
  Canada geese guard newly hatched broods,
     blackbirds struggle to sort themselves out.

Ahhh the first sprouts of tender nettles wave
  beckoning cuttings of tender new greens,
    promising tonics and welcome nutrition.

The hum of town lawnmowers is not yet,
  though lawn and yard torturers lurk gauging
    the dew, the temperature, old patterns.
Perhaps... springs first mushrooms are up,
  where winter deer sheds have already fallen
     luring the wastrels to the woods.

                                   --r.anderson 1May2011

seasonal change

the species list changes from day to day
all the bits interacting in a constant swirl
subject to the limiting factor of the
day or week or month. eight inch goslings,
weeds, noncharismatic microfauna, rot!
the good stuff in and under the pretty
stuff; and not a bit of it static: perilous
thing, life on life on life on life on life -
so messy, thank god, seasonal change