Unaccompanied Minor

Loons know when a lake becomes free of ice because within 24 hours they return to their old haunts. Spring is upon us, and I celebrate with an old poem appropriate for the season.

Unaccompanied Minor

The vernal equinox come and gone

yet nighttime frosts persist,

winter's dunning agents.

A flash of white like a message

from a signal light

rides the waterline - the loon returned.

But the size is wrong, more of a liner

than a tug. Black eyes instead of red,

and, once unfurled, a long goose-shaped neck.

The bird, a singleton, glides off,

unaware of fading ugly-duckling coloring,

head held as if royalty, 

bearing the favor of spring: a cygnet on the cusp.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Shinto Shrine

A year ago we took a tour of Japan which included lots of Shinto Shrines and Buddhist Temples. Towards the end of our trip the group descended on this monk, genuinely happy to see us.

Shinto Shrine

    The lone monk in the monastery, 

200 steps up, couldn't restrain beaming

        when day-trippers sprouted

       like the occasional wildflower.

First a riverboat ride then a climb

that shrugs off coats. One or two

other suppliants joined us 

                                  in this holy place.

A true hermit discouraged such people:

dodging them.

A wise mendicant welcomed visitors:

listening to their stories.

Brimming with bonhomie, this monastic

     with his temple chants, hushed me,

                comforted my core.

      Silence steered the watercraft back.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor