Thursday, December 14, 2006

Poetic States of Minnesota and Maine

Tis a crazy world: The folks that want to kill all the Jews do a holocaust denial conference. SeaTac airport takes down all the Christmas trees cause they talked to a lawyer who hinted suit, then put them back up. And the Senate may be GOP after all.

Oh, well. We go to Disneyland next week, almost all that is on my mind.

Until after Christmas, enjoy these poetic states.




XX – Minnesota

Loon Dreams

Winter’s early arrived in the Northwest,
a rare event for a Puget November –
snow and ice enough to cause havoc
on highways, roadways and byways.

Settled in with my morning coffee,
watching squirrels and stray cats,
I spy a moose rub against the RV.
A lake is forming in the backyard,

many more in the front and side lawns
as my cedars turn to Northern Pine.
Where the raccoon tribe scampered
to feed from the neighbor’s dog dish,

a pack of timber wolves pad silently by.
Their heads raised to watch me watch them,
they look as hungry as walleyes
eyeing a fishing house set on thin ice.


XXI – Maine


Legend relays they once ran
twenty pounds, even thirty
with a record of over forty-four…
now we seldom see them over two
and those from Australia.

In hidden coves along rocky shores,
decks, piers and barges sell
fresh cooked crustaceans
served on paper with bent plastic,
watery slaw and overbaked beans.

Whether because I was too young
to know what I did not know
or was turned off by the smell,
my meal was greasy chicken
or cold dogs with the slaw and beans.

Then last year I discovered bisque
and wish I could take back the last 40…
crackers in one hand, pick in the other,
bib around my neck and plate empty
of dry beans and warm slaw…


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