Amazing image, Susie! Posting with The Sunday Muse and with Poets and Storytellers this week.
My neighbor's phone bleats a need for attention.
The wrens have fled; they flew when I stepped out
To check the roses for cardinals.
I pause on the concrete then stab my soles
In the grass just off the porch. There is a single
Bluebird on the fence by the a/c.
It is the suburbs, I murmur. We see a moon
Triangulated by unnecessary chimneys, rooflines,
Fences that rot with each summer.
Still, they sing. Over the gasping shriek of brakes
As the deliveries come. I couldn't have seeds without
packages and the UPS person.
We are magnificent in the yard. A deep grass
Pool that washes weedy at the feet of the fenceposts.
We wade in chlorophyll, pollen.
The phone bleats itself exhausted. I know
That restless nap, the brain mapping a sheer panic
Over imagined emergencies.
That layer, this clear plastic panic, chips
When I am still enough for the birds to return,
Cautious, to the crumbled edges.
Singing, they wear the plastic away.
Good reading moment to you! It's midday here, cool enough for the door to be open but warm enough for shorts to still be de rigueur for in the house. I've been watching entirely too much costuming YoutTube (I have a weakness for tulle that I can't indulge IRL--I would essentially look like Queen of the Spiders with dogs variously hooked to my skirts...although Merlin probably wouldn't mind finding himself snuggled into flouncery...and my brain is now telling me that what I need is a giant skirt full of dog pockets for floofs) A N Y W A Y, this week's image felt like a fairy tale but I am not feeling very much like one, so the poem sort of went in its own weird direction. There's a battle between aesthetics and poetics that is currently being won by a desire for chip & dip.
Sorry, my brain is still in a draft that I'm reworking. I'm in the process of taking a draft of a story that when first written I took very seriously. As you can probably tell by the stuff and nonsense above, I've decided to take the sense out and substitute interdimensional spiders who are running a subspace station (like a subway, but less practical) beneath a high school. Not YA. Just Why?
And now, back to our regularly scheduled Chip & Dip.
-- Chrissa
"Still they sing" ... and we must follow their example of singing in the face of adversities!! Great poem!
ReplyDeleteI love the message of the birds singing no matter what in this poem Chrissa! There is so much stress people are dealing with these days. It can be overwhelming. I too am for the chips and dip! Sounds like a wonderful plan to me!
ReplyDelete"We are magnificent in the yard" - that does so much for this poem. And the birds still find a way to sing, even in the plastic-fantastic 'burbs. I love "they wear the plastic away", their songs rounding up the great garbage patch out in the Pacific, or at least making it bearable.
ReplyDeleteFor starters, stop rubbing in the fact that you are cavorting about in shorts. Chips and dip I can OK. Also "nice job" in spite of it all.
ReplyDeleteLuv your "bleating phone"
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday
much love...
"We are magnificent in the yard" - This is a great pivot line. Well done!
ReplyDeleteA true picture of what it's like for one who lives where it's "too peopley." The birds, grass, seeds all competing with the detritus.
ReplyDeleteWe could learn a lot from the birds as they still sing no matter what is happening, adapting to their environment.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many lines in this poem to love.. "We are magnificent in the yard. A deep grass Pool that washes weedy at the feet of the fenceposts. We wade in chlorophyll, pollen. Still the birds sing no matter the noise we humans make to silence them." So many lessons to learn from our winged friends. I am so grateful my art could inspire this fabulous written art.
ReplyDeleteI love "still they sing." Thank heaven for the little burdles, whose song brings hope in the cacophony of human noisy living. I love "we are magnificent in the yard." One's own little patch of home on this big blue globe.
ReplyDeleteI like the way she creeps out into the grass almost as if it were unfamiliar space, hiding mysteries in the "deep grass pool."
ReplyDeleteLi/Lisa @ tao-talk.
This is a nice smiley read, Chrissa. No smiles though on "... chips When I am still enough for the birds to return, Cautious, to the crumbled edges." That one got me, I would love to write such seemingly nonsense. But then some of mine is by accident.
ReplyDeleteI am debating wearing shorts, a short leave no undershirt for sure, tomorrow to my GP as I like minimal for doctoring. She is to give me a pre-op for my cataract surgery on the 11th. The ninth is my second COVID-19 vaccine shot, Saturday for Mrs. Jim. We doctor the GP here at Methodist (but have kept the one in Conroe) because it is only 8.2 miles away. I am glad we did, my other doctor hasn't said zilch about vaccines, Methodist invited us.
..
Glad to hear about your shots & good luck on your surgery. Mom & Dad have been scrambling to get on lists where they live for the shots.
DeleteIt is the suburbs, I murmur. We see a moon
ReplyDeleteTriangulated by unnecessary chimneys, rooflines,
Fences that rot with each summer
It is a blessing to be in the open with the freshness of day among the little birds and greenery all around you. Wonderful poem Chrissa
Hank