from Illia

Praying
It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.
             -Mary Oliver



Point Lobos in June
sun evaporates fog
drinks droplets
seasoned with
salty sensation

breeze brushes
century old cypress
sways newborn spiders
in resilient silken webs

sitting at well worn
wooden table
next to time trusted
familiar friend

near ocean’s edge
I place words on paper
for daily sustenance
no need to fish icy waters
             -Illia Thompson



After the Storm
After rainy nights
I gather earthworms,
Long low-lying inches of life,
marooned on cold patio tiles
or damp backyard cement deck.

Gently, I place these creatures
on top of soft garden soil,
watch a revival of spirit
as they enter familiar ground.

These fat primordial beings
with no hint of face or feature,
plump pink lengths,
seem to come from the sky
on the slide of rain.

When saving others,
I save myself.
             -Illia Thompson



Visitation
My muse appears
not upon demand
    but if I set a table
    with finest heritage china
    serve fruit of perfect ripeness
    offer music to touch my heart
    she may arrive unannounced
        and spend the night.
             -Illia Thompson



Sunflowers
In cobalt blue vase,
 one upright
another bent to keep it company.

Mind’s lens opens,
collects images
stores beauty.

The full moon
reflects a single tear
droplet of long ago loss.
             -Illia Thompson



Feathering
within the depths
lies fertile loam
embraced by slumber dark
awaiting birth
until slight light
ignites the resting spark

a tiny crack
illuminates
a pin point opens wide
shoots of white
reach toward pale green
imagine lighter side

in cycles old
as nature’s breath
white and black entwine
nod kindly to each other
light needs dark to shine
                 -Illia Thompson



Summers
Shucking corn for the evening meal
golden threads become silk
ready to weave a ladder to the sky.

Shelling peas, tiny green marbles
sing as they fall into the stainless steel bowl,
 practice for the hit parade.

Picking green beans I count,
adding and adding until I feel like a millionaire
who will never know hunger.

Buttering Aunt Reni’s freshly baked bread
while farmhands from Cornell hungrily eat lunch,
I wonder when I will taste my first kiss.
                 -Illia Thompson



Nightscape
in stillness
    I touch the hand
        that moves the moon
            through darkness
                 -Illia Thompson

from DeeDee

             HAIKU

Borderless, seamless
Poets conjure rain clouds of imaginings
Releasing droplets of words.
             -DeeDee Baronian

from Lynn

Pleasure

“What I love is near at hand,
Always, in earth and sky.”
                 Theodore Roetke

It’s the simple things
Really
That soothe my soul

That first cup of tea at dawn
The soft clear sunlight skimming over the mountain
Chickadees fluttering in the patio bath
Pale yellow cosmos swaying in the breeze
The turkey family scratching through our garden
Plums on the tree slowly turning red

The first sip of white wine at dinner
That one square of rich dark chocolate melting along the sides of my mouth
The apricot sky of the ocean sunset
The dog’s tail wagging
Your hand reaching for mine
My breath, in and out,
Soft reminders of this fragile glorious gift of life.
                 -Lynn Archer

A Tidbit
    What I Learned from Our Stephen Stills Dog

        Be picky about what you eat and eat only when hungry
        Drink lots of water
        Warm yourself in the sun
        Nap often
        Gaze out the window at the trees and birds
        Walk, run, play
        And play again
        Be ready for an adventure
            Any time
            Anywhere
        Look cute, head tilted, brown eyes shining
        And “love the one you’re with”
            especially  if he’s kind to you,
            gives good treats and
            takes you to the beach
            so you can run free
                 -Lynn Archer

Early Morning Musings

Okey, muse, you win
3 a.m.,
the bed  so warm and comfy
but I can hear you in my studio
tapping your foot
impatiently

You’re a hard task master
these days
but I wouldn’t have it any other way
you and I make a good team
Rogers and Hammerstein
of early risings

I wonder what you have in mind
for me today
maybe it is this homage to you,
Clever thing,
But that’s okey
You’re worth it
                 -Lynn Archer

Ode to a Duck

Just because I loved it
My husband gave me
A little ceramic duck
I saw one day in San Francisco

Balanced on one foot,
The other one kicking,
This little duck is stylin’

Dressed in a yellow rain slicker,
and shiney black boots
And holding a black umbrella
With a pink handle
high overhead
He makes me smile.

It may be raining
But that’s not stopping him
No way
He dances in it
With panache
Gene Kelly of the duck world

A whimsical reminder
That when stormy days come
And they will
I have a choice
I can greet them
With resistance
Or go out and kick up my heels
With attitude

Give me attitude…
Quack
             -Lynn Archer


Broken once
I know my limits
I climb the ladder
Passing the missing rung
And keep moving
Upward

It’s not far
To where I need to be
Only an image
And a prayer
Away
             -Lynn Archer

Gifts of the River—
    To John

That first summer
25 years ago
and again now
we canoe down
the river
you and I
a wide gentle stretch
of the green Wisconsin
light breeze to our backs
the first time ‘round
strong headwind
the second

We paddle together
   I propel
   you steer
paddles in
paddles out
paddles in
paddles out

rhythmic and soothing
allowing our minds to empty
and wander
with the flowing water
floating forward
with the river
always with the river
in gentle quiet time

we are part of nature here
observing silently the passing scene
tall white egrets at the river’s edge
turtles sunning themselves on logs
then plopping into the water
when we come too close
and one eagle flying overhead

I love being on this river with you
“In sickness and in health”
orange life jackets at the ready
just in case

and I love this river
this gentle river
flowing slowly to the sea
the distant sea
allowing us time
to enjoy the journey
             -Lynn Archer

The Evening’s Gift

When the stars come out at night
I think of you
How you love being part of this cosmos
This exquisite cosmos
And I make a wish for you
Upon the brightest star,
The one I know
Will deliver.
             -Lynn Archer