flaunting dusky blue, white bib
and greater size western scrub jays
land on the curved metal support
for the bird feeder platform
and chickadees, wrens, even thrushes
flit away from their midday snacking
to allow the intruder full access
to the tiny yellow, red and green beads
in the metal bowl
it isn’t exactly bullying, just taking
what is offered by smaller
less assertive neighbors
tiny waves sweep outward
crisscrossing intricate competing circles
between rows of feathered carrot tops
as each dense raindrop plummets
from the toolshed’s melodious
metal roof splashing, heavy,
into shallow brown ditch water
or trickle into rivulets gurgling
to caress the lowest points
of Mama’s garden
I scour her fine furrows
with the blunt end of a stick
trying to drain this overabundant
life-sustaining gift of water to keep
it from drowning her days
of planting, hoeing and
humming in hope
dust between my fingers flitters away in breeze i barely register
sand between my toes tenders memories of childhood joy
garden earth between my palms enriches past and future
for garden dirt that supplied our table promises to feed our family’s souls
gentle moments catch us unaware
draw us into knowing we share
something deeper than words
shifts into catching our breath
the ululation of screech owls
claws raw the wounds of loss
while mourning doves coo companionable comfort
a sunbeam pierces thunderhead
to light a path between heaven
and earthling and soft peace settles
on a mourning gasp
moments without preparation
startle us into assurance
beyond grief or fear, if only
for that instant
without the swirls, draping sheets
and dancing colors
this time I was less captivated
by the eerie magic of aurora
but more impaled by the raw power
of these stiff probes of hazy light
that arch from horizon to horizon
battle-strength powers enclosing me
as earth’s magnetic field defends
its helpless life forms
should a weakness or break occur
within that spherical shield
the sun’s tantrum would – will –
engulf us in fiery fury unimaginable
shafts of northern lights
arch from horizon to horizon
muted white, at times tinged
with green or pale maroon
rather than pink but strangely still
as though embedded in faint haze
third night of aurora borealis
from our sun’s upheavals, flares
of intense, chaotic storm
hurling fierce, solar winds
against earth’s electro-magnetic shield
how little we comprehend
our fragile haven amidst
the battle of titanic forces waging
so close around us
faded but discernible
because a repeated pattern
of the night before
brightening along the northern
pine tops, centered below
the north star as dusk sky
to the southeast
settles into indigo
gradually that northern glow
grow turquoise, then aquamarine
and haze lines, long in reaching
toward the zenith, become distinct
some carrying dull greenish tint
other rays blushing like youth
caught glancing toward a centerfold
but still able to protest
“No, Mom, I never saw anything – it
was just there.”
glitter, glisten, ripple, dance
sparkle with reflected sunlight
painfully bright sequins
flash the passion of the coastal waters
in multiple competing tangos
as each breath of wind salsas
to its own drummer
dipping and swirling partner waves
in frantic and yet enticing embrace
in awe watching a bobcat kit
even younger than my first
lynx rufus visitor was years ago
newly independent but already
patient watching, watching
but not still, he sits on haunches
bobbed tail barely behind him
floretted forelegs extended
under muscular shoulders
pointed ears erect over
squarish head turning as he
watches, surveys, twists, watches
and then—he is gone
so young, but knowing
how to hunt, he is gone
live reporting, mjNordgren 5/9/2024 N
tiny white butterfly flittered
near like an asterisk calling
attention to itself. ‘Here I am,”
it seemed to whisper, ‘perishing
in this early summer sun. I don’t
have dark blues or blacks
or large, wide-spread wings
that would help me cool myself.
Your global warming is killing me
and so many others. Please, please
tell your others to change
how you use our earth and air.’
MJ blathers