January River of Small Stones - Jan 27, 2012

Hardscrabble Fields

Someone has left a rake leaning upon the porch corner against the dirty chipped paint.

The ground appears scraped bare of all living things;

Shabbiness surrounds the house.

Is it empty?

Or are there children huddled inside trying to stay warm?

The end of January approaches and the men and boys are working hard;

But work is hard to find, and the fields of 1947 were just as hardscrabble as they are in 2012.

 January 27, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 26, 2012

Sundown at Possum Kingdom

Rose petticoat furled

Same moon and north star shining

Indigo apron

January 26, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 25, 2012

Rainy Images

Silver trails of rain

Rushing down midnight sidewalks

Streetlights make images

January 25, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 24, 2012

Chalk Sunflower

Sidewalk chalk flowers

Powder blows yellow and green

Remnants of child’s play

January 24, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 23, 2012

Picky Cardinals

Red pyracantha berries

On tall leggy bushes

Hang in grape-like clusters

End of January cardinals

Picked and picked and screeched

Now they’re nearly gone

January 23, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 22, 2012

Abnormal Temperature

I’ve been sick the last few days with one of those winter colds that isn’t too terribly bad, but bad enough to stop you from feeling like doing anything very constructive, like housework, or baking, or sewing, or even reading very long. I read stones half of the morning and didn’t move from my chair, but I kept dropping off to sleep. I notice that my face feels very warm, but when I take my temperature the thermometer reads below normal. Is that normal? Do you think I may be abnormal? Do you think something may be terribly wrong? Probably just a hypochondriac speaking, you say? Yes, I imagine that’s it. But I am sick with a cold. And I’m going back to bed now. Toodles. 

January 22, 2012

January River of Small Stones - Jan 21, 2012

A Day at the Laundromat

Curly haired Anna gave her mother a quarter when asked.

Another, said her mother, and then another.

Can you press the round green button?

Standing on tip-toes, stretching her little arm, her tiny finger made contact.

The striped, purple, yellow, pink and green of her shirts and socks flew

Around and around as the girl stood in wonder and cocked her head

First one way, and then another.

A whirling bumpy noise then snagged her attention.

Quizzical look upon her face, Anna looked up at her mother,

Then in the most grown-up of voices, she declared, “This machine is very jumpy.”

January 21, 2012

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