Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Counterparts

Hamas and Israel have hogged the headlines recently. But there is another war going on, and a final victory will be long in coming. Even at the cabin I am reminded of this.


Counterparts


I

No longer afraid of humans and 

their shouts, the does back away


but don't back down, their fawns

stock still, ears perked.


Images from Ukraine show women

scolding enemy soldiers, nose to nose


as their offspring, rubble-coated,

peer from troubled doorways.


Hardened troops ignore the rebukes,

scan the area, fingers trigger-ready.


II

Late winter stars glow into morning 

but lose to the advancing haze.


Birdcall echos like children begging

for breakfast. Meals: a pocketed crust.


The glazed snow deep enough

for desperate deer to upend bird feeders


and besieged mothers to ferret out

blackmarket hustlers.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor 

Tuesday, October 3, 2023

Necessary Groundwork to Weather Prairie Driven Blizzards

This week's poem is a repeat but apropos to one of my bookclubs which, unfortunately, is no more.


Necessary Groundwork
to Weather Prairie Driven Blizzards


Autumn and a stand of oaks,
summer's grande dames fading.

The visible hint a new henna rinse
in their foliage.

These trees sense the need
to conserve crucial sap, tolerate

weakened branches, and ignore
the growing hollows in their core

like time undermining
the matriarchs of my book club.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Blindspot

I wrote this because of my frustration with how my partner was handling his PSA. Enough said. Blindspot My partner knows death comes for us ...