Arizona poetry
The visit in Tucson was really nice. Hung out with the parents, saw my sister & her husband and my wonderful niece M, and my other wonderful niece J (who is in the Navy, but had a nice long leave and came to visit the grandparents in the warm). I got to visit with one of my oldest friends from high school, and rode a horse for like the 3rd time (story fodder! story fodder! I kept thinking of Legolas and the fic I am attempting to write).
Last time I was there we took a walk in Sabino Canyon, and I scribbled bits of this down:
Sabino Canyon
29 Dec 2001
Rock, water-washed, watched over
by red-grey towers, tall sahuaros
Grey gneiss, granite, quartz
Waves of white-grey-red
Swirls in stone
Not a made lake, nor constant fed,
But timeless, secret, ancient pools
new-born in every rain-storm-winter
Rock and water tannin-touched
Sun-struck, reflecting
An endless sky of blue-white-gold
Cottonwood leaves like captured sunlight,
Bleached sycamore stems beneath
a ragged cloak of copper-brown-bronze
The last remnants of spring
Clinging in the sheltered spaces,
waiting through the winter.
---
This visit it was Spring, and mom's sweetpeas were blooming, and she had a new windchime on the porch.
Spring Wind
29 March, 2003
Windchimes sing, the swing shifts,
Rocking itself
Light flutters on the small green leaves
Snapdragons and sweetpeas
Roses and penstemons dance
The bright air tickles the grass.
Where are you going, O Eastern Wind?
Playing with the palo verde,
Racing around the cacti,
Teasing the mulberry trees?
Your visit is even briefer than mine.
---
Comments and criticism of the poems is welcomed!
Last time I was there we took a walk in Sabino Canyon, and I scribbled bits of this down:
Sabino Canyon
29 Dec 2001
Rock, water-washed, watched over
by red-grey towers, tall sahuaros
Grey gneiss, granite, quartz
Waves of white-grey-red
Swirls in stone
Not a made lake, nor constant fed,
But timeless, secret, ancient pools
new-born in every rain-storm-winter
Rock and water tannin-touched
Sun-struck, reflecting
An endless sky of blue-white-gold
Cottonwood leaves like captured sunlight,
Bleached sycamore stems beneath
a ragged cloak of copper-brown-bronze
The last remnants of spring
Clinging in the sheltered spaces,
waiting through the winter.
---
This visit it was Spring, and mom's sweetpeas were blooming, and she had a new windchime on the porch.
Spring Wind
29 March, 2003
Windchimes sing, the swing shifts,
Rocking itself
Light flutters on the small green leaves
Snapdragons and sweetpeas
Roses and penstemons dance
The bright air tickles the grass.
Where are you going, O Eastern Wind?
Playing with the palo verde,
Racing around the cacti,
Teasing the mulberry trees?
Your visit is even briefer than mine.
---
Comments and criticism of the poems is welcomed!