Coronation Cookies

King Charles III is celebrating his birthday this month. I miss his mum, Queen Elizabeth II.

Coronation Cookies

Even the tabloids didn't trumpet the event.

The only clue of the pomp to come lay

in buntings billowing above major streets.

Acclaiming him King Charles instead 

of Prince would take time.

The English missed their long reigning

Queen. She embossed their hearts, still.

In the city center store owners avoided

stocking too many coaches and crowns

honoring the official induction.

But at Heathrow mementos materialized:

Spode china and Steiff Bears to keychains

and mugs, all for the target market.

A last chance for tourists, a fitful tug

for Brits on the go.

Coronation Cookies, tasting dry as discs

of sand, followed me home in a keepsake tin.

The container conveniently fitting in my carry-on.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor 

Wonders

Sometime around Daylight Savings last spring, I went out early at the cabin to hang the bird feeder, and was taken by surprise. This is a poem to honor that brief interval in time.  

Wonders

The hoot of an owl wide-eyed me

as I stepped into predawn dark.

Could I spot his perch in the inky

nothing? My night eyes foundered.

His call pealed his turf or perhaps

appealed to paramours, and his presence

gladdened my heart.

Jewels sparkled beneath my feet

in this frosty non-winter of a winter.

The Big Dipper spilled and Cassiopeia

rested resplendent as the unconcerned

horizon lightened,

dismissing the assembly of this sky,

this raptor.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor