The poetry bus is driven this week by Jeanne Iris, who suggested many things, among them a seasonal impression.
I'm not sure my efforts are quite ripe yet. This might be two poems mixed up still.
In spring the blossoms covered the tree
like a wedding gown
sweet pink at the heart of the petals
petals that danced in the air
gently falling to the ground
The apples were tiny
the apples were the size of peas
hard and green
the size of grapes, of kumkwats, of limes
The apricots came and went.
I waited on the apples
The sun of August caresses the fruit
lightens the green to a pleasant yellow
Streaks of red appear, and it's time
Sweet, but not too sweet
firm, cracking under my teeth like a denture commercial
I have a new way of eating apples,
special for apples from the garden
If I have time I'll come back to this and try to tweak it into shape.
In the meantime, the Bus is off and running. Catch it here!
Just for fun I tried option #1 as well:
I saw a magical being
Right there! Right in Bakersfield
Right in plain sight.
I knew the stories were true I just knew it
And here was proof at last
Something to keep Derek shut up
When he tries to tell that fairies aren’t for real
And Santa is just Mom & Dad
I went closer, fearing that my approach would make the ephemeral creature disappear
But it stayed.
I saw then how still it was
And how silent
Like a statue of a fairy
One that had an evil spell cast upon it
Turned to stone right there in Bakersfield
Then it moved!
And suddenly I saw through it
To the other side
A woman’s face caked with makeup
A spraypainted hat, cardboard wings
The other side
Is my side.
I stood dumbfounded in truth.
above . . . and below
8 hours ago