Seagull says: “Look here;
All this abundance! Riches!”
Dances across our crumbs.
-
Clean for Tomorrow
Women before me look out past their sinks.
My mother with a lawn
of full trees and cardinals.
My grandmother in an alcove
of cheery wood cabinets.
I see blue Norman Creek as day slowly melts.
Familiar porcelain aches fill my sink.
Cookware, utensils, all
spent pots and pans.
Burnt-on leftovers,
Stuck crumbs hanging on,
Hands pruned in water; spine bent to task.
Watch plucky bubbles soon find rivulets
of air. Feel tension ease
as you look up and shift.
How doused we are with
indelible fortune. Tonight, I
chose scrubbing. To be clean for tomorrow.
[Written in April 2020]
-
Garlic Bulb Miracle
Written back in 2020 while I was on pandemic furlough … seems like a perfect post for today!
Dark kitchen corner,
a forgotten
bulb bursts
open. Single green
arm reaches out
and instantly air
like a rush of
electricity zips
down verdant
limb, a first breath
of vast unknown.
Rustle imperceptible
of former self, there is
no going back, only
brave burgeoning start.
-
Here, Time, Gather
Here, time to gather myself
To gather hands
To gather together my hands as if in prayer
As if to hold myself in a way that is kind,
As if to create energy that is bigger than myself
But is still myself
My Self holding hands together, to gather
In a moment, all of what is and what can be.
-
Silver Linings
Pandemic furlough –
My Walden pond.
A chance to sit quiet
On a snowy couch
With Sandburg and
Whitman, and my great-
Grandmother who,
With silver thread,
Ties the past to my
Future roads. How
She loved Frost asking:
Which one will you
Take?
-
all i know is nothing
all i know is
i know nothing,air invisible now
feels viscous.inhale and accept, i
exhale to let go.grief is outrage is
paralysis is promiseis a messy reaction,
nodding and grimace.don’t look to me,
peer closer and within.i may know nothing
but i can learn.when air becomes
voice then we maysee intangible
become action,the many breathing
new life like light.
-
Dreaming of Tuesday’s Parties
Dreaming of Tuesday’s
parties, glorious rippling
colors, all manner of
food and gaiety, strangers with
strange stories, big ridiculous hats,
cacophony of singing,
and drunkenness, lots of it
spinning, hours disappearing
under the weight of the night
and slow dancing whispers,
all versions of us
unwilling to believe in a
dawning Wednesday.
-
Wake Up Little One
Wake up! Wake Up! There is so much
To do! Watch the trees, flush with green,
How they open their sun catchers
And breathe just like us. There are ripples to create and
Secret worms to unearth.Come, test this messy black dirt
With your bare feet and count the many
Grains of light on your tongue.Wake up now, small one, and find your life in the dawn.
-
Steady as we prayed
Over lunch, a mantis settled for my Stella de Oro day lilies in the
blazing west sun on my roof deck in Baltimore. A capricious whim,
or calculated move – its motivation irrelevant. To the immediate south,
basil sage perfume, and wild-eyed purple petunia. Air conditioners
hummed mildly for the mantis on a deepening yellow bloom and
just as motionless as a cat perched two roofs away. I watched, captivated.
I willed the insect to move. Electricity rushed the wires. A car door closed.
Wind rustled pollen loose as a police helicopter
charged us to the east. Not one spindly leg twitched. I looked up.– a liminal space, a sudden tumblingwhirring cacophony of
skin
and privilege
and good blocks
and protection, and
murder and
bad blocks and
fear and
and grief and so much grief –Then looked down. Mantis had moved while the rotor blades roared.
It perched upside down mindful, head bowed,
tiny insect arms set in prayer. Steady as the sirens followed
like clockwork. Steady as we thought of our neighbors, knowing not a single one.Written 7/11/16
-
I’m with the majority
Today I think
1 of 2 people love poetry,
one half is convinced 5 of
12 words deliver peace, and
the rest are worthy of
derision, humiliation, and worse.
90% want freedom
from rhyme, 6% love
structure, the others
undecided. I heard 2.75% of grown-
ups are afraid of the dark, which
seems low, and 83%
of kids still believe in
multiplication, which seems high.I’ve made
my camp with the majority,
who is always right. 1 of 2 of us
is happy about it.Written 7/11/16
Poetry by JC Snyder 