All the ashtrays have been emptied
The ashes blown to dust
Long ago.
The decorative stone ones,
The ceramic one your mother made,
The heavy one that was thick and gemlike
Faceted, bending light.
That one was too nice,
It made the ashes seem dirtier.
The cheap metal ones, bent up at four sides
That I had in college in ‘91.
That one was on the dresser:
The one I fished half smoked butts out of,
Careless of the last lips that held them.
The souvenir one that once said Canada,
The red word on the clear glass
And the maple leaf on the bottom
Faded and chipped away.
The smokers are outside now,
Or quit,
Or dead.
The ashtrays are in landfills,
In forgotten boxes in the dark cellar,
Dim corners behind old books.
Existing in their decay,
Fading to ashes.
Returning to dust.
writing
5 Crows and a Hawk
There are five crows that hang out in our yard. I wanted them to be ravens, so I could pretend that Odin was guarding the yard. But the internet deflated this fantasy: they are indeed crows.
I really shouldn’t want more. They are GREAT crows. One day, I was sitting in the backyard, and they were perched in the trees along the property border. They began cawing, and then one took off, flew down steeply, banked around the power line pole, then accelerated back up to the starting branch.
This was cool, but then one by one they each did the same thing. The waiting crows cawed loudly, as if encouraging their mate. As they continued to fly around the pole, it was clear that they were playing. Not only that, it seemed like this was a type of drill, practicing maneuvers that would be useful in the wild.
Crows call a challenge
Leap, rise, stoop into a dive
Tilt, twist, bend their path
Beat down wings to rise again
Cawing cheers upon return
I return to this remarkable memory whenever I see them. I thought this would always be the high point, until last week. That’s when I saw one of the crows and a hawk together. Flying together.
The crow led, the hawk followed, beak almost to the crow’s tailfeathers. At first, I thought the hawk might be chasing the crow away, perhaps from a vulnerable nest. But as they flew, curving, diving, flying into tree shadow and reemerging, it became obvious that they were playing.
Thankfully Patty was there to witness this, or this would have been another of my partly believed strange animal stories.
The crow and the hawk
Fly aligned, dive together
United by flight
Transcending their barriers
Darting, flapping, rising, one.
The reality of these birds is so much better than my mythological fantasy. Still, I’d like to think Odin would be proud to have them in his real world.
This post is part of a poetry challenge at http://www.tankatuesday.com
Back to School Haiku
Teachers measure years a little differently. Our year goes from September to June. On the 26th, my new year begins. Unlike the traditional New Years Day, I don’t need to make a list of changes or resolutions. Those will come in the form of the 70 plus new students I will get to know and teach over the school year.
Ads for school shopping
Remind me I have a job
That fresh minds await
The feelings at this time of year are always mixed. I love summer, and its mix of productive tasks, like writing and landscaping, along with relaxing and recreation. Soon, my focus will change to the trials and the joy of teaching seventh graders as they navigate the challenges of childhood coming to an end and adulthood beckoning. Though this will be my thirtieth year, even with all my experience each year starts with the nervous excitement of new beginnings.
Visit TankaTuesday to join the challenge of writing syllabic poetry.
Back for TankaTuesday
Been a while since I posted, but I have been writing! Working on making my novel into episodes, with the goal of publishing on Kindle Vella when it is ready.
The haiku below relate to the work I’ve been doing outdoors in this summers extreme heat. Good to be back on Tanka Tuesday!
In smoldering heat
The black mulch glistens wetly
Sweat soaking my shirt
Hawks cry and circle
I point them to the mole holes
Whose mounds scar the lawn
The sun blazes heat
In the green leaf shade I rest
Leaning on the spade
It’s Nice
It’s nice to say nothing
It’s nice to talk expansively
It’s nice to hunch forward and stare at something intently.
It’s nice to walk slowly
It’s nice to run fast enough to create your own breeze
It’s nice to know the difference between squirrel chitters and bird calls.
It’s nice to love gently
It’s nice to love passionately
It’s nice to have a dog sit on your foot as you pet its head.
Writing about not writing
I didn’t want to write about not writing. But the only thing I can think about is why I’m not writing. Why my creativity is not creativating. Why my brain is so tired that the thought of writing makes it nap time.
Why am I not writing? Mostly, it’s this school year. It has been very difficult for numerous reasons, but as a professional I’m not going to list them. Suffice to say that it has been rough. It’s only been recently that I felt I was overcoming some of the challenges I’m facing. The process has made me stronger, which makes me confident that I will feel more creative energy. That and SUMMER IS COMING!
Being in pain for a year before her hip surgery was really hard on Patty, of course. We are intertwined, so it was also very difficult to me to see her struggling, and we both were bummed that we couldn’t do the active things we like to do.
Patty is better now! So that burden has been laid down, and the energy from it is starting to return.
On the positive side, we had “Step into the Spring” at work, which is a school wide step challenge. So I spent the month of April doing as much activity as possible. Being an active teacher, taking Anna for longer walks, and doing a lot of yard work. And the yard looks GOOD.
Oh, and I won.
Very positive, but obviously tiring. Coupled with a day of teaching, the physical and mental drain made it more difficult to get writing.
But I’m back! I mean I have a website – gotta be a responsible blogger!
Back for a challenge
The form below is called a Renga. The breaks show the different line requirements and syllable counts. More info can be found at tankatuesday.com.
Contrast the hint of
flowers with the attack of
weeds. Balance of Spring.
Hints of summer in sunlight
humidity, light and heat.
Then cool like the fall.
Leaves hush instead of rustle,
No hint of winter
Once bare trees are blossoming
Nature's first green is golden.
Eclipse in a Dish
I failed to get us eclipse glasses. Honestly I didn’t even think about it. We were so caught up in Uconn’s championship run and celebrating our birthdays that it didn’t occur to me to pick up glasses.
I had a solution. Years ago, I was washing dishes during a partial eclipse, and I saw the reflection of the sun in the water. Realizing I could watch the reflection safely, I filled a small dish with water and placed it on the garden window. I was able to “watch” it indirectly. One cool effect is that the depth of water means a layered image: the top image is nearly too bright to look at, but the refracted ones are like shadows, and give a really good sense of the shape of the sun as it is obscured.
This picture is as close as I could get to capturing the effect. The reflection allowed us to enjoy the partial eclipse here, but I’m sure didn’t compare to the total with appropriate lenses.
Here’s the poem I wrote years ago when I discovered this eclipse watching cheat code:
I watch the eclipse
In a dish
In the garden window.
Even reflected
The light stings my eyes.
The water is still,
Deep enough
To give shape to the sun.
I tap the rim and the water tilts
Tipping side to side.
The sun in a cradle
Rocking, rippling, warped.
I Shot Chewbacca
The first time I shot Chewbacca felt like I was betraying my childhood.
I was seven when my brother took me to see the original Star Wars. That’s when I met Chewbacca. Chewy was larger than life in every way, as a character and on the big screen. I loved all the characters, especially Han Solo. At my young age, those characters were as real as anyone I knew, and that included a 7’6 Wookie.
After seeing Star Wars, I identified as Han for 5 years. Chewbacca was my best friend and co-pilot. The character was sometimes played by my human best friend Eddie, who was good at barking dialogue and could do a solid Chewy roar. Over the years we had so many adventures in my mind and in my yard.
Now, it’s fair to ask: how could I shoot Chewie? Well, as an adult I was playing the video game Star Wars: Battlefront. On this one level, you choose a character from the Empire. It was conflicting enough to choose which Stormtrooper I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be ANY Stormtrooper! They’re bad people! And horrible shots!
Continue readingEarth
…then I think
you’re married to the sky
the perfect marriage
each makes the other better
sky by framing you
earth by underlining sky
Mark Bozeman 