Poetry
Photo by Anand Thakur on Unsplash
Asleep on the Hill Until
We nap naked
on the side of the hill
after our picnic lunch,
sun-warmed and satisfied.
We wake at the same time,
suddenly, surrounded
by cows, heads bowed,
curious noses
coming closer.
Excuse us, excuse us,
we say as we stumble
into our clothes
and grab our sneakers,
the basket, the blanket.
We make our way,
followed, to the fence
we ignored before.
On the other side,
you say well,
I didn't want to tell you,
but there was a bull.
Not For You
My mother at 86
puts peanuts out
on the balcony
of her apartment.
The peanuts
are meant
for the blue jay
because
he's pretty.
The peanuts
are not meant
for the squirrel
because he's not.
Get outta here!
she yells.
He stares
right at her
and chews
while being
offensively
gray and brown
and also
a rodent.
My mother is
offensively
herself
as she frowns
and folds down
the top
of the peanut bag
and snaps on
the plastic clip
and puts the bag
back in the cupboard.
No more for HIM,
she declares.
She is comfortable
with punishment
based on appearance
based on existing
as yourself
if you're not
who she was expecting.
Attention
Put it down,
whatever you're doing.
The little junco
is taking a bath
in the shallow bowl
I just filled with fresh water.
Look, please, look
at the way
she hops in
with both feet,
bends herself to wet
the feathers
on her chest,
flutters her wings
again and again.
Wait, keep looking,
she's pausing,
deciding if she's clean
enough,
now splashing again
and again in the water
I just collected
from the spigot
and poured out
the slender green spout
of the can.
She's finished now,
watch her,
she's considering
a drying-off place,
it's the big
sun-warmed rock-
oh! Now the top
of the shepherd's hook,
see?
See all the wet
she shakes down
onto the table, ha!
Onto the chipmunk's head!
Did you see?
And the grand finale,
a nice poop,
not on anyone's head.
Isn't the whole performance
divine?
Are you-
were you watching?