I
Among ten thousand trees,
the transformation begins
with the blink of a snowbird.

II
Snowbirds live.
Snowbirds die.
Wing tips span
the seam between
egg and bone.

III
I baked my snowbird
in a pie; the oven wanted
something beautiful to eat.

IV
A nest is a clever home.
At night, house windows
shine like yellow puzzles
for the snowbird to solve.

V
I steal the notes
of the snowbird’s song,
shackle myself to the silence
that blooms between the notes.

VI
Abandoned women
in thrift store robes,
abandoned houses
warmed by bedroom fires—
the snowbird understands.

VII
The mouth of a snowbird
is small but mellifluous.

VIII
Children with dusty fingers
color sidewalks with chalk.
Snowbirds alight there and dip
their wings into an apocalyptic sun.

IX
When the snowbird departs,
the branches of the juniper
languish like bitter crescents of lime,
ice cubes melting in a glass of gin.

X
To decipher snowy syntax,
etch lines on a sheet of ice;
get on all fours and trace
snowbird tracks in snow.

XI
Rain is turning to sleet.
The snowbird is awake.

XII
She crosses her legs
on the velvet settee,
exhaling cigarette smoke
in rings across the room.
The ashtray is a crystal grave
of severed snowbird beaks.

XIII
It was winter all afternoon. Across the city,
chimneys are spilling snow into the sky.
A snowbird shivers in the fireplace.
I close my eyes and gather kindling.

Here the waves rise high and fall on the icy
seas and white caps chew the driftwood logs of
hemlock and toss them wildly upon sandy beaches.
The steep mountains rise straight from the sea
floor as the December sun shines through the dark
clouds that hang heavy with snow near the top peaks.
Blue icebergs drift slowly down the narrow channel.
This volcanic island is one of many that are scattered
along the coast of Southeastern Alaska.
On the South end of the island is another
tiny island and on it stands an old lighthouse,
a shambles. It has a curving staircase and an
old broken lamp that used to beckon to ships at
sea. Wild grasses and goosetongue cover the ground
and close by Sitka blacktail feed and gray gulls
circle. There is a mountain stream nearby and
in the fall the salmon spawn at its mouth. The
black bear and grizzly scoop them up with great
sweeps of their paws, their sharp claws gaffing
the silver bodies.
Walking North along the deer trail from the
South end of the island are remnants of the Treadwell
Mine. It was the largest gold mine in the world.
In the early 1900's the tunnel they were digging
underneath Gastineau Channel caved in and the sea
claimed her gold. The foundry still stands a rusty
red.
The dining halls are vacant, broken white
dishes are strewn inside. The tennis court that
was built for the employees is overgrown with hops
that have climbed over the high fence and grown
up between cracks in the cement floor. The flume
still carries water rushing in it half-hidden in
the rain-forest which is slowly reclaiming the
land. The beach here by the ocean is fine white
sand, full of mica, gold and pieces of white dishes.
Potsherds for future archeologists, washed clean,
smooth and round by the circular waves of this
deep, dark green water.
Down past the old gold mine is Cahill's house,
yellow and once magnificent. They managed the mine. The long staircase is boarded up and so
are the large windows. The gardens are wild, irises
bud in the spring at the end of the lawn, and in
the summer a huge rose path, full of dark crimson
blooms frames the edge of the sea; strawberries
grow nearby dark pink and succulent. Red raspberries
grow further down the path in a tangle of profusion;
close by is a pale pink rose path, full of those
small wild roses that smell fragrant. An iron-
barred swing stands tall on the edge of the beach.
I swing there and at high tide I can jump in the
ocean from high up in the air. There is an old
tetter-totter too. And, it is like finding the
emperor's palace abandoned.
There is a knoll behind the old house called
Grassy Hill. It is covered with a blanket of hard
crisp snow. In the spring it is covered with sweet
white clover and soft grasses. It is easy to find
four leaf clovers there, walking below the hill
toward the beach is a dell. It is a small clearing
in between the raspberry patch and tall cottonwood
trees. It is a good place for a picnic. It is
a short walk again to the beach and off to the
right is a small pond, Grassy Pond. It is frozen
solid and I skate on it. In the summer I swim
here because it is warmer than the ocean. In the
spring I wade out, stand very still and catch baby
flounders and bullheads with my hands; I am fast
and quick and have good eyes. Flounders are bottom
fish that look like sand.
Walking North again over a rise I come to
a field filled with snow; in the spring it is a
blaze of magenta fireweed. Often I will sit in
it surrounded by bright petals and sketch the mountains
beyond. Nearby are salmonberry bushes which have
cerise blossoms in early spring; by the end of
summer, golden-orange berries hang on their green
branches. The bears love to eat them and so do
I. But the wild strawberries are my first love,
then the tangy raspberries. I don't like the high-
bush cranberries, huckleberries, currants or the
sour gooseberries that grow in my mother's garden
and the blueberries are only good for pies, jams
and jellies. I like the little ligonberries that
grow close to the earth in the meadow, but they
are hard to find.
Looking across this island I see Mt. Jumbo,
the mountain that towers above the thick Tongass forest of pine, hemlock and spruce. It was a volcano
and is rugged and snow-covered. I hike up the
trail leading to the base of the mountain. The
trail starts out behind a patch of blueberry bushes
and winds lazily upwards crossing a stream where
I can stop and fish for trout and eat lunch; on
top is a meadow. Spring is my favorite season
here. The yellow water lilies bud on top of large
muskeg holes. The dark pink blueberry bushes form
a ring around the meadow with their delicate pink
blossoms. The purple and yellow violets are in
bloom and bright yellow skunk cabbage abounds, the
devil's club are turning green again and fields
of beige Alaskan cotton fan the air, slender stalks
that grow in the wet marshy places. Here and there
a wild columbine blooms. It is here in these meadows
that I find the lime-green bull pine, whose limbs
grow up instead of down. Walking along the trail
beside the meadow I soon come to an old wooden
cabin. It is owned by the mine and consists of
two rooms, a medium-sized kitchen with an eating
area and wood table and a large bedroom with four
World War II army cots and a cream colored dresser.
Nobody lives here anymore, but hikers, deer hunters,
and an occasional bear use the place. Next door
to the cabin is the well house which feeds the
flume. The flume flows from here down the mountain
side to the old mine and power plant. An old man
still takes care of the power plant. He lives
in a big dark green house with his family and the
power plant is all blue-gray metal. I can stand
outside and listen to the whirl of the generators.
I like to walk in the forest on top of the old
flume and listen to the sound of the water rushing
past under my bare feet.
In the winter the meadow is different: all
silent, still and snow-covered. The trees are
heavy with weighty branches and icicles dangle
off their limbs, long, elegant, shining. All the
birds are gone but the little brown snowbirds and
the white ptarmigan. The meadow is a field of
white and I can ski softly down towards the sea.
The trout stream is frozen and the waterfall quiet,
an ice palace behind crystal caves. The hard smooth-
ness of the ice feels good to my touch, this frozen
water, this winter.
Down below at the edge of the sea is yet another
type of ice. Salt water is treacherous; it doesn'tfreeze solid, it is unreliable and will break under
my weight. Here are the beached icebergs that
the high tide has left. Blue white treasures,
gigantic crystals tossed adrift by glaciers. Glisten-
ing, wet, gleaming in the winter sun, some still
half-buried in the sea, drifting slowly out again.
And it is noisy here, the gray gulls call to each
other, circling overhead. The ravens and crows
are walking, squawking along the beach. The Taku
wind is blowing down the channel, swirling, chill,
singing in my ear. Far out across the channel
humpback whales slap their tails against the water.
On the beach kelp whips are caught in wet clumps
of seaweed as the winter tide rises higher and
higher. The smell of salty spray permeates everything
and the dark clouds roll in from behind the steep
mountains.
Suddenly it snows. Soft, furry, thick flakes,
in front of me, behind, to the sides, holding me
in a blizzard of whiteness, light: snow.

I’ve forgotten
to be anything but
space—so enraptured
with the black that
the forest was
less than a goose pimple
on earth’s flesh.

I have ignored the
eighth notes
hanging from the pines.

I have forgotten
the snowbirds and whipped
winds.

I have numbed the needles
pocking skin through
my jeans.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

I have forgotten green.

now
the light of frozen
flies dims
in your mouth.

now
love washes out
in seasons.

now I eat
sugar-frosted buckthorn.

And I see you
ready to touch
through one
hundred leaves
and foliage.

Percepts of enlightenment & civilization to encounter
The grim aftermath of tales unspoken from the galaxies afar
Betokening Indian tales of deeper truths than ever,
For the Great Spirit still swirls in gestures previously milder,
At a snail's pace and surely winning the pursuit among souls or
Is example better than pre-conceived precept?
or
“Is that a dog in the manger?”
Now cherishing the viper?
The human dilemma between liberty & authority?
“Has mythology now become psychology?”
A dingy white color in disguise of tranquility
To suit the blemished features of the 21st century
With fair women & brave men turning fables into verse,
Yet Socrates’ doctrine about death bespeaks a wafture so callous!
The new-age “iron claw” screams nastiness in time and space.
The pretences of mankind like the puritan;
Mars trapped in the net of Vulcan,
Jupiter is serene and above the conflict to win,
While Venus tries to fight upon the plains of troy
That the Greek gods of serenity may win at Tuscany.
“When do these sultry groans of mortal remorse cease?”
To calm the sordid uproar that Love may peruse
Through the scattered white aromatic rose petals
In search of the scintillating path back to the highland stables
Were snowflakes are an irresistible lure for the Arctic snowbirds!
Nature herself is proud of her designs
Yet!
There is nothing grating in mortal cosmoses but direct villainy.


Sinister fate climbs the lonesome banister faster
Before the “fanged dawn” descends nearer,
As stronger minds virtually become weaker;
These “shameless actors” are melted into “thin air”
“Must they cheat themselves with that same foolish vice of honesty?”
Mischievousnesses feed!
Like beasts till they be fat, and then they bleed
As they are led to bend the curve of “No return”
Since it is only rational that after the darkest of nights
There is a brighter day to reveal the true knights
Of the once gloomy age of Democritus.
Tis plain, from hence, that our vows
Request hurtful intense things,
or useless at the best.

I am quiet in front of the ambient lights.
Confronted among these Ambien nights,
with alluvial life, a hot bed of technical idolatry-
It is hard in the valley of the sun
the people who over-extend
self, carry impotence and
a loaded gun-
The land of geriatrics filled with frolicking snowbirds
who cast out their alcoholic offspring
to grind under gears of the economic machine.
Modern man is genuflecting in the sanctimonious pantheon of self.

That “Grand Idea” of traveling
         going with the Snowbirds
                                     as in herds
Changing with the Seasons...
For what ever reasons...

Changed when seven pounds
               of squirm and delight
         was cradled in my arms-
          five years ago that night

Instant Love as from Above
Never to cease, never to release
a 24/7 little boy, Tony Boy,
             (and Lucy too)
     Filling my life with Joy.

I wondered at times
      how it would be...
Retired...
     Just my wife
         and me.

And when I weighed the cost
Thought of the loss
Someone else called “Grandpa”.
The little voices saying “Grandpa!”, “Poppa!”
Rang louder still, louder beyond all measure
than all the sites and sounds the world could offer.

No other decision was possible to make
Than to spend my life raising my “children”
Building memories, building lives.
Instilling character the only way I know...
   Loving and living,
       and when necessary -- using words.

My “children” will live their life,
        living memories,  
        giving memories,
        creating memories,
of times when they were young
Saying,      “I love you Grandpa.”
                    “I love you Poppa.”
Hearing,   “I love you too my child.”
Knowing, “See you in the morning.”
                      Refers to Heaven.

“The greatest love you can show
is to give your life for your family.”
     (It is a paraphrase but
     consider the original Author.)

How to make a poem,
That will never end
How to fix a broken heart,
When you know it will never mend.
How to be gorgeous with grace,
How to stop an infinate hate.
Snowbirds should be  beautiful,
Girls should not be rude
But, oh, how we've changed
Even the best are crude.
Light blue lace insilks a treasure,
embroidery and patterns,
They used to make life better.
But oh, how we greed,
How we want,
How we seize.
Oh, how we loath
There is so much hate.
Everyone's so nice,
Everyone's so mean.
Everyone's a fake,
But they're all how they seem.
No need for emotions,
When you can't tell them apart.
No need to care,
When the whole world's in park.
Yet everyone loves,
And everyone's loved
And God has plans,
Near, but so far above.
Life is beautiful,
Even if it's in a twisted way,
Life is gorgeous,
Respect it all, because it will stay.
Horses running wild,
Penguins waddle free.
No matter who they are,
No matter the species.
How to contain an anger,
How to accept,
Nothing can happen
Live life at it's best.
But of course things do happen,
And of course they will
But you don't need to acknowledge that
Move on when you've had your fill.
How to be beautiful,
How to not care,
How to be a poet,
Because I'm not quite there.
How to be a writer,
How to know a deer,
To live like a hunter,
What is infinate fear?
Your soul animal,
Well, it runs through your soul
Picking little fights,
Warming you when you're cold.
It's a dark night,
But you can see the moon
It's a clear night,
But fog will drop soon.
It's a bright morning,
The birds chirp with cheer
But they are shot dead, not far from here.
Now, please, fear not,
There's this thing called the sun,
It works magic wonders
But this was part one.

The desert has the eyes of hawks
Soaring wild and free
Hills painted with russet tones
Were once under the sea

The ocean floor is full of life
Cactus coral reefs
Mesquite flow with the currents
There is no change of leaf

In autumn nor in winter
There is no hint of fall
But many snowbirds come to roost
Can barely count them all!

Sometimes there is a dusting
Of slight, faint hearted snow
The mountains have a power
With sun it quickly goes
Springtime brings more color
The Palo Verde yellow floes
Wildflowers in riot
And the subtle cactus rose

But summer? Ah, the summer!
The desert's but a drum
For the beating incantation
Of a punishing, bright sun!

Not many stay in Tucson
When that drum does beat
Not many can handle it
The brutal desert heat!

That's where you get your sea legs
Under the pressing burn
If you can handle August

You're at the point of no return!


Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
SoulSurvivor
(c) 8/14/2016

Come here.  Look,
The grass is fading, and soon
The snowbirds will arrive.
Unmoved, they'll watch from afar
And, O, so shall I,
- trembling,
For fear that they may fly.

Leaves of palm fall to the ground
As fish and coconuts abound
Children swim under the sun
Searching for some summer fun
Grownups head on to the bar
Or to gatherings where their colleagues are
Winter's left, snowbirds are gone
Some tourists are here, but most moved on
Sun climbs over the naval bases
Shining upon uniformed faces
Sailors clip along bays and coasts
Besides mangroves and shipwrecked ghosts
Plantains and barbacue, fish and rice
Lemonade for kids, and beers in ice
Corals are shining, and so are the jellies
While artists sunset performances spark passion in bellies
This is the hot passion of summer in Key West
Where oceans meet and birds come to rest

The eagles may pass the snowbirds,
In the air, on the land and sea;
Like the flight of the featherless Wild Geese
In a similar century.

The coops are open,
The hawk is swooping,
Talons sharp and spread;
Eyes laser fixed, and firey red.
They're locked
On preening pigeons,
Perched near the magic box.

He had stopped writing the journals
The pages were smelling of ****
Tramping around in the middle of nowhere
He had lost the utmost necessaties of existence
A paradoxical levity however defined the situation aptly
The truth was found in this surprisingly conventional existence
The officers questioned him about his whereabouts
To which he replied in a peeved tone
"I'd rather not talk about my alibi, I'm living my life my way for sometime now"
Moved about from the corners of the streets
He lay bricks on their expectations
Denuded mountains and a cask full of crippled hopes separated him from his loved ones
He spent his evenings gazing at the indescribable tint of the rainbow
With stardust captivating the left over soul
The tangibility of dreams mocked at his living
Fifty bucks and 2 unlit cigarettes
Was all he had for another months dormancy
The people were curious
They wanted to know what he desired for
All the snowbirds now are afraid of losing their children.

~~~


In Tucson's fair climes
The weather's sublime
It's the perfect time of the year

Though no colorful trees
Not a ONE drops it's leaves
There is one major drawback I fear

Driving caution's suggested
As the roads are conjested
Tucson's now popular! TRUE!

For the balmy air
And the climate fair
Brings all of the
Snowbirds here TOO!


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) October 19, 2014

March roared and rained and ripped
itself from winter
a wounded lion

Last seen following the snowbirds

My happy shoes shined on him
    ((Sherlock))
The ladies "Joy" locked
The grand one
And the only rare one
Orient Express me
diamond locket (Moon Wee)
The constellation all he

Inside escapades
starry eye clues
In the wax of the candle
  Taking a tour
Madame Tussauds
His beat thousand times
of her hourglass
crystalline sand

Stepping up engraved words
"I Love You" grand slam home run
my freedom to love him back
So I will be (Dawn) set me Grand-don't
slam my door the most expensive
horse-shoe

You got to be like a quicksand
Like the good-luck
Lotto-La La land
((Cinderella)) her Grand
Godmothers washing her floor
Her Grand finale Bella- Bella
Grand Meatballs vacation

High figuration the divination
The grand valuation of my cash diet?

Aim for the sky awe-inspiring
Cry Baby grand piano lordly concession
That's a riot comedy club of Moms
The milky monumental complexions
Robin flies  the Grand Marnier
we are family all International
Take all my ancestors
and first class kins
wipe my business
shoes give me__?

The whole works
"The Shoe Shiner"

The grandest times of sins
But we tweet in other
languages baronial
The grand thousands of human
mind like snowbirds sensational

Beach-homes waterfronts especial
All in variation harmonious
vacationers with their
Blue sky fancy poodles
Eating like birds chow- fun noodles
The Grand Hotel nest or maybe give
peace a chance John at a glance

We love the Floridian Fort Myers
The birds of 'Paradise"
 The flow of our pulse
lovebirds -R- something else
She thinks she is a step up price
Queen of Gracy Kelly

Oh! the hummingbird made
a grand slam harmonious
Go, Mustang Sally, the grand tally
That Grandeur "Red Riding Hood'
The goods her diction lucky night wolf
..... flight taking off pompadour "Rose"

Stepping up with the computer clicker
My mouse students theology
The goals phycology exceptionally grand
Like the statuettes to be kissed the Godly sand

How do we milk the whole cow?
Everything got sacred somehow
Where is our justice we need it now
Throwing white rice "Carolina" is ever finer
at traditional wedding turns dark matter  
How much more to sacrifice?

Oh! fiddlesticks, Christian Louboutin
Oh! Christ or her Manolo Blahnik
designer shoes she is as grand as a beatnik
((Faith)) taking one step passionately
The two terror twins think divinely
Taking the grand finale spiral staircase

Stepping on someone's toes or the
saying anything goes
Are butterflies they really free?
How much time do we have when
we cannot see any more beauty


Or catching fireflies Queen bees honey
Uncle Sam has our money this is the
'United States'.

Oh! No Webmaster, the romance booster
What a grand resister the greatest temptation the lover.

More hugs I will always love my Mother
she brought me into this world I felt grand
we only get one to observe another gifted hand
To be served engaged with each other
Picturesque goldmine
Valentine the plateau
A+ binge that cute chocolate
brown pups living
in the Chateau
The New Jersey ((Coolest Diners))
White china or Wedgewood or Crystals
Is always a grand invitation
Exchanges superb catnaps
you took a bite poison Apple
Meet the new modern
(Snow White) on the website
could see through her sumptuous clicks
Apple of first-class grandest school books

 She got an F for failure
I rather have the totally cool grand lecture

Stepping on someone's lap-(top) by the nook
What a **** "Hell-(Bottom)" he's super grand
but overcooked did we not see to look?
Having the grand finale snow wonderland
of  penguins
  (The North Pole) her gift that's another story
her nails the grand castle like no heaven
on earth glory

Old Meiser's square dancing pole  
How the world treats us and don't you dare
cross me my journey begins

((It's Totally Grand))
"Thousand Islands" with one step pickup your dog litter!!
The  waves so grand on the shiny white pearl sand
The purple rain Prince your divine love for
Passionate purple Irises tall and lean asters.

Oh! Jack in the slot Vegas box
the Philippine dictators' wife, 3,000
shoes embezzled
Whoa Oh! No 10 billion
the women that live in her shoes.
The *** in the City Carrie designer shoes.
The New York state of mind and Rome
3.5 million what a riot?

Her lips will chew to travel like the looper
So clean as mint lotto gum when the
dictators' wife bought 2,000 chewing gum
That is something to be grand about
(UFO) understatement- frilly- outstanding
in her "RV' Robin vitality stepping on victory
Her home the ATM my lordly place
The galloping gourmet in the
Galley the kitchen
The grand trophy ((Hollywood)) wife loves
chef knives LOL

Dramatic color changing of leaves
and cool breezy Autumn evenings
wake the senses with its beauty

INDIAN SUMMER declares a
switching of seasons as the coming
transition to Fall is forthcoming

Light sweater season or thin jacket
brings to bear stylish fashion that
still disavowals white or does it?

Long walks and tandem bike rides
along the lakeshore associates with
a well stocked picnic basket to share

Passion for this time of year knows
few boundaries and yet Snowbirds
pack and escape to warmer climates

The irony is astounding and still the
practice has been in place for decades
Love your seasons be blessed in them.

I dipped my toe in the Atlantic
and wondered how long it would take to get to England on a rowboat
or to swim there outright
as if I would be so inclined in either fashion

I've seen **** and Jane through many trials
all the running, jumping, and frolicking
never really seemed book worthy
but I read on dutifully hoping they would surprise me

Eventually, I stopped reading the adventureless series
and grew into darker theories of life
that have lead me to ponder the distance
across the ocean to Neverland in ways that I couldn't actually attempt

Safe in my unathletic prestenses, yet vulnerable in my dreams
I remember the snowbirds that chased me
through childhood summers
I remember the accents and crystal blue eyes

I will remember your face... always
but I no longer remember your name

ice melts on the shore
tugboats bring in the booms
robins search for twigs to build nest
life begins again
to those who count time by seasons
it is mud, flowers, celebration and
a chance to return to old friends
who all hid from winter
the snowbirds return
tan and thin to greet
their hibernating friends
who are just waking from
their snow induced sleep

what we have done
we have crossed all the lines
we have declined
all the warning signs  
we have missed the deadlines
now one day our sun will not shine
to so many things, we remain blind
so stupid of us, that it never entered our minds
that we needed to be kind

to little, to late
to stop, mankind's fate
just wait!!

on this earth, the crimes, the crimes
committed against her
silent to what we have heard
we thought how absurd
and we just continue forward

when there is no more
songbirds
redbirds
seabirds
snowbirds
to late, for what we should have heard

then when it is to late
we will look back
wishing we would have listened to  and heard
all the warnings

that we should  
and should have been
kind
to our mother earth
!!

We need to stop making

assumptions or
Can we be saved from
redemptions

To me, this is not a

Shakespearean

Love play reaction

Impeccability

Or love liability

◊ ♥ ♥


Self-love to love yourself

Interaction caught you in

the deepest thoughts

All by myself

Come forth the temptation

What becomes more
tempted

Fifth heart operated
Five doctors
Opened up someones
Good heart Bill Gated


Computer the chosen one
Pressed her five keys like the
Kingdom
come

How  God really

knows what every heart shows
he loves you


One agreement never

thoroughly thought
5 times the Sentinel
stars
She held her words bright


"I Am"

Two of the most powerful

words with love

Confinement

Promises five wishes lift

Please respect it as a gift

But what is really behind the

words bowling(Pin)interest
5 strikes you out


Let's say goodbye to sadness

Show gratitude

Your spirit opens to gladness

Respect is the one greatest

Accomplishment such kindness

Show who you are

the glow of appearance

And pardon me if you refuse

to eat "Emotionally"
Personally so caught up

With someone else's five
sweet and low packs
of poison

Looking for love but we really

don't know love give me five

reasons why?

Be immune to the other

people opinion


(Gamesmanship)

(Ladyfanlytrip)

Life was simpler
with giggles

Now all you see is
War of roses

How it blooms into
the hell of

Five lives of
Rifles

Are you being clearly unheard
Jaybirds Robin redbreast
Flamingo pink seagulls hawks
could really talk
take me away
To think

I forgot some
nostalgia__
My mind erased like
Insomnia

To buy love the Gal of the

Galleria

Were you the pep me up

Pepsi Topsy tipsy
Kentucky derby

The next level spiritual


Rules of the Rumi ®
Take me like a poem

She moved right through me
So peaceful and calm

Her Mona Lisa fifth
the painting she needs
to smile

Her five fingers took
a palm reading

The ½ of her heart needed

mending love
5 top ingredients
So well commended

The five agreements
Recommended

Something like you

never seen

On the news
Fox five
Box ageless five
Sox Dr. Suess
I will take the fifth
No loss



That ***** of light
Jekyll dark lamp post

His incoming headlights
Seeing a ghost

He saved your salvation

Oh! Lord what could I afford

The soul of silence

Going downward

But really "What's up?

Got changed to onward

Your divorced finger cup

Dark coffee with the
eerie glow
Showstopper
Wine corker
Fifth floor
Only one lover

No tootsie roll lost
the soul

Feeling like the
Rookie

All the chips were
out 5 morsels

Love of baked cookies
Love portal

Reaching Twenty five
No morals

So solid in your ways

Always on the fifth days

of the month

He was the bouncer

What an influencer

Healthy sipping your

Organic

With vitality but lonely

inside like a vegetation

So ironic

More energy veggie juicer

You felt "ET" or

Glazing in the grass

The E-book
embracer

the weight coming
off

Personel trainer he was

Slim Fast five times
reducer

24/7 Even Steven
reminder

Hearing the fifth symphony

You need the hubby

Hello Poetry
For God's sake,
we keep

Veterinarian take me
not him he went to sleep
The Veep

The Parrot palm tree
Designer 5 pairs of shoes
Shopping Bell Towers spree


Talking over like a
voice over the game
is over

The snowbirds

Floridian

Those spreadsheets

Spreading heat and waves

of love what's above

Love-Love-Love

Picking up on the fifth ring

Knowing its always him

on the I phone those
cultured

pearls shined for him


Filling in the gaps

That was a different swing

But we will make up the time

The Beatle beats I want to hold

your hand around the Garden of

Eve last love to bend

Your gifted heart to send

With no attachments
enclosed with

installments


Midsummer dream no manic

to this planet

Rumi spiritual existence

♥


My four agreements

To Love

To Honor

To give

To rightfully be happy
to live

A hundred and seventeen by day
Cools to ninety overnight
No relief but the shower stall.
Humidity at sixty-five
Mixed with sweat for a nasty soup.
Cold water from the tap is warm.
The shade no cooler than the sun.
Trapped in Air Conditioned caves,
It’s hunker down and find a way
To forge a path though ninety days.

Why does anybody even try
To live in this forsaken place.

Bcause it’s lovely in the Winter.
The gorgeous skies are like no other
With clouds that tumble into billows
Of fantastic size and shape.
The Craggy mountains circle round
In jagged homage to the sky,
And sunrise is excelled by none.
In March wildflowers explode in bloom.
Along the streets and in the fields
Where little bunnies hide in bushes.
And tiny lizards scurry by.
The air is clean and brisk and new
And snowbirds make their yearly trek
Infusing new and different views.

That’s the Yang to scorching Yin
That keeps us here, content to be.
ljm

->  ->  ->  ->                 ->
  ->  ->  ->  ->                ->                                           <-
                                                            ­                        <-
>-
   >-
                                                    ^ ^

                             /|\    /|\

                                    

The cold blows north and the city falls
into the cycles of a leafless world.
It feeds off the brick, licks the shoes,
tastes the cotton of jackets,
gnaws hands clutching the last warmth
of summer close to their heart,
cuddling its last embers,
huddling to the next soul
with faint fires when it goes out.

Dogs on the leash paw the air
delighting in distinguishing
the smells of life and death all around.
Autumn is their rooting season,
their time to sniff for the rat
hidden in the pre-collection trash,
to proudly drop the last migrating Warbler
wounded by the reflection of sun on glass,
at their masters feet in the remaining
scent of the Great Wolf Hunt.  

With each gust their master’s minds go south
to thoughts of changeless sunshine,
snowbirds migrating in caravans
to The Villages filled with plantation magnolias
scarred with the memories of rope swings
and before that, feet swaying in the dirt,
never mindful that it was the African eye
who first caught the non-reflective sun
and bleached skin, the first shudder of cold.

The taste of cold on fingers and faces
etches their tundra souls
and in the rubbing of hands,
the warm breath of air in palms,
they almost feel the sun again.
They sense something invigorating,
thrilling in feeling the right amount of cold,
the wind howling  in the cave of their hearts.

I am a lousy gardener
that only offends
the soil on top and below.
 
No Petunias or Marigolds bloom,
only crab grass struggling with
Tennessee moss, and a small patch
of Kentucky Bluegrass the
survivor of almost fifty years
and two previous owners:
 
a general practitioner who
layered the inner sod of
the old colonial with
trip wires, alarms, sirens
and intercoms still being
discovered
 
and a Methodist preacher
who cultivated a lawn
of thin earth carpet over
the cheap yellow vinyl
and parquet in the basement—
adding two bedrooms and a shower
for any charitable cases
or needy parishioners.
 
My lawn is left to hell,
the house, gifted to heaven
and the loving attention
of my wife who fills
this abode with the aromas
of her favorite foods
cooking in the oven.
 
The inside is built
on good bones and wood—
a sturdy brick foundation
and oak floors with
a comforting squeak,
sanded and polished
to their original shine.
 
My chihuahua takes great
delight in slipping on them
when she plays fetch.
 
Outside nature riots
in unmolested happiness.
 
Twenty oaks and a few evergreens
defend the spaces of my half acre.
The most majestic one
leans like a hunchback
crying over the stump
of its dead brother below.
 
My trees are allowed to be real trees,
uncultivated, untrimmed, undominated
plus one-hundred-year-old sovereigns.
I respect my vegetable elders.
 
During the spring and summer
the lawn is mowed every other week
to keep my neighbors happy.
 
Five Chipmunk dens burrowed in the clay
provide rooting and hunting
opportunities for my chi,
as the two good boys before,
now scampering
around the rainbow bridge.
 
A black and white stray tabby
has taken up residence on my porch—
sunning in the afternoon,
snoozing in the corner column at night.
He scatters at light and first witness,
his existence a blur captured
on the Ring.
 
Just above is the nest
of our perennial swallows,
real snowbirds I have
no fondness to evict.
The Ring also captures
their welcome and farewell.
 
This dear green acre
has lasted longer
than my happiness.
 
It has the patience
to wait beyond
my grief, disease
and eventual death,
beyond the lease
of all its human tenants
to reclaim its proper heritage.
 
I am so small
to such big things.
We are so small
to such big things.
 
This verdant kingdom
will not shrink back,
wither or expurgate.
 
It will insist on being loved
and watch mine and your colors rust,
for it is beyond discrimination,
consciousness and self-reproach.
 
It will mock you and me
as our fingers dig
down hard into the clay
and grow nothing
that hasn’t existed eons before.
 
It will live alongside
mine and our
happiness and misery,
dropping seeds,
rooting, always blossoming
beyond the violent light.

The wind calls out to the snowbirds,
who are searching to settle in;
And leaves of burnt umber flirting,
along with autumn's whims.

Crimson skies above us now,
swirling with velvet clouds;
Cardinals fly to nest in the trees,
chirping songs of love out loud.

Fiery and warm in the woodlands,
sitting upon an orange pumpkin;
Toasting marshmallows with my friends,
and scary Halloween sights will begin !  

This must be a sign of October,
the most glorious month of all;
Though mellow moods may soon set in,
its beauty reigns throughout the Fall.

The desert has the eyes of hawks
Soaring wild and free
Hills painted with russet tones
Were once under the sea

The ocean floor is full of life
Cactus coral reefs
Mesquite flow with the currents
There is no change of leaf

In autumn nor in winter
There is no hint of fall
But many snowbirds come to roost
You can barely count them all!

Sometimes there is a dusting
Of slight, faint hearted snow
The mountains have a powder
With sun it quickly goes
Springtime brings more color
The Palo Verde yellow floes
Wildflowers in riot
And the subtle cactus rose

But summer? Ah, the summer!
Before the monsoon rain
Though we'll never get that much of it
No. Never much again.

The summer! Ah, the summer.
The desert's but a drum
For the beating incantation
Of a punishing, bright sun!

Not many stay in Tucson
When that drum does beat
Not many can handle it
The brutal desert heat!

That's where you get your sea legs
Under the pressing burn
If you can handle August

You're at the point of no return!



Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc aka
SoulSurvivor

Catherine Jarvis
(c) 8/14/2016
Summers in Tucson or not for the faint-hearted. The house where we live has no air conditioning. We have a swamp box cooler. It's relatively cool when it's dry, but it's very muggy when it rains. This summer has been miserable. We've had a lot of wet weather. I'm sorry to complain, but I can't wait for the fall!

Part of the reason I haven't been on site, and I've been struggling, is due to this weather. The afternoon is time for sleeping. I've been sleeping quite a bit actually when I'm not looking after my folks.

Fall is right around the corner... Bring on (Rock)tober

white bellied junco
people wintering warm spots
traveling snowbirds