Posts Tagged ‘poetry’
Tea berries
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Teaberry
Gaultheria procumbens
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leaves shiny, thick
capsules waxy, red
aromatic oil
methyl salicylate
mint and wintergreen
tea soothing, blood thinning
creeping wintergreen
spice berry, drunkards
staggering over
the forest floor
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best
Jane
Raspberries
It’s a great year for berries. Our blueberry bushes are loaded with the biggest, sweetest berries I have ever tasted. The raspberries are full and sweet. The blackberries are still mostly unripe but the canes are heavy with future berries.
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raspberry ramble
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every berry
a sweet cup
detached
from its cosy seat
deep in brambles
juice pressed
between teeth
seeds and briars
handfuls of sun
rain clouds
warm winds
gravel soil
eager fingers
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best
Jane
moose
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moose
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square body
four hundred kilos
cow lifts her head, angular
stares at the car
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long ears maneuvre
in all directions
no challenge
dewlap swings
~
cow returns to her business
prehensile lips
pulling leaves
and chokecherries
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We saw this moose on the way to our cabin, about a kilometre along the road. She stared at us for a while, eyes and ears curious, but eventually she returned to her feeding.
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All the berries are coming into ripe: chokecherries, blueberries and blackberries. At the cabin the blueberries are the largest and sweetest I have ever seen. Everywhere I picked showed evidence of an animal there before me. Not a moose. Perhaps a bear, not caring where he sat as long as he could scoop up those berries.
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All my best, Jane
Copyright August 2019
blackberries
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blackberries
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floricanes bend
with August weight
shape an archway
show the path
~
through brambles
to lake
pergola unfastens
gate, entices
~
pickers
into wicked thorns
sweet indigo
temptation
~
primocanes snag
hems of gloves
ankles of socks
handles of baskets
~
angry scratch
for every berry
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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Hope you are enjoying this blackberry summer.
All my best,
Jane
root cellar
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root cellar
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over the hill
cold earth sequesters
seeps of water
and lichened stone
roots in dry sand
preserves on shelves
of rough-hewn boards
~
mice gnaw on the seam
of a gunny sack of corn
blue mold on the surface
of a jar of apple jelly
Mama just scoops it away
pumpkins never keep
past December
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
dandelion fluff
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dandelion fluff
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purse lips
and puff
make a wish
scatter seeds
to wind
and follow
into sun
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Copyright Jane Tims 2019
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All my best,
Jane
Pearly everlasting
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Pearly Everlasting
Anaphalis margaritacea L.
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Pearly Everlasting
sign of summer’s passing
yet – immortelle
picked by the road
by the armload
hung from rafters
children’s laughter
runs beneath
~
downy leaf, woolly stem
white diadem
perfectly matched flowers
thatched in gold
dry and old
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Linnaeus named
for Marguarite
memory sweet
paper petals keep
pale perfume
summer grace
in a winter room
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Published as: ‘Pearly Everlasting’, The Antingonish Review 92, 1993 and at niche poetry and prose, August 20, 2012 here
Copyright Jane Tims 2012
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All my best,
Jane
fetching water
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fetching water
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‘Strength in those arms,’
says Mama. ‘Fetch
me a bucket
of cold water
from the well.’
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‘Need one of those
pumps,’ says Papa.
‘Painted iron,
hornbeam handle.’
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‘No need,’ says Thomas.
‘I know how to drop
the bucket
so she fills
the first time.
~
‘Echoes lift
from well-stones.
My face down there,
winks on the water.
Strength in these arms.’
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Copyright 2019 Jane Tims
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All my best,
Jane
hauling wood
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hauling wood
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The draft horse answers
to a click, a shake
of the reins, the squawk
of a blue jay, flushed
from the thicket. Long
tail hairs scatter flies.
Chain rings, loops around
the log, its cut end
a brake, ploughs up duff.
Nostrils flare and hooves
find gain in gather
of leaves, paw for ground.
Lather under tack,
he lowers his head.
Takes the woodlot incline
as though he’s navigated
these hardwoods
all of his life.
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Copyright 2019 Jane Tims
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All my best,
Jane
making snowmen
In winter, the snowy roadside slopes keep a record of events. Animal tracks, snowmobile trails and sledding runs each tell a story of adventures in the snow.
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On a drive to Mactaquac, we saw yet another story being told. Narrow tracks, each with a small snowball at the base, document the activities of gravity and wind. I think they are taking the first steps toward making snowmen along the roadside.
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snow games
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at first
wind and gravity
collaborate, roll
the heads of snowmen
down the grade
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wind nudges
the tracks, plays games
of parallels
and criss-crosses
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gravity tires
of rivalry, abandons
bodiless heads
in the snowy ditch
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May you encounter interesting stories on your winter travels!
All my best!
Jane
nichepoetryandprose 