Coaching from Mother Nature

For some reason it seems I get placed with a friendly voice, not human, asking me my choices when making business calls. None which they offer, I might add. It's frustrating.

Coaching from Mother Nature

I step outside into early hour darkness

to hang the bird feeder. All but the brightest 

constellations have fled.

Later, new stars: finches and chickadees

flit like sunshine through the leaves, sing

on sunflower seeds. 

Bigger birds and pointed beaks attack the food

next: jays, woodpeckers, and pocket-size

nut hatches.

Some of the meeker warblers defer to the bullies,

ceding their dignity at the swaying container,

but the more daring dart.

A threat of blood from a sharp poke for them.

A lesson for me in not surrendering as I cope

with canned calls found in "customer service."

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

  

Recipes

My mother passed away 15 years ago this month. I wanted to honor her by reproducing this poem. She was not a demonstrative person, but her gift came from what she loved - cooking.

Recipes

Directions for apricot souffles

or a csssoulet, sticky buns, peach

pies, and oven baked French Fries.

"If you can read," assured my mother,

"you can cook." And with that she

handed me a daunting tome,

an unopened book free of any dog-eared

pages or telltale drips that might guide

the new bride on a lifelong journey.

                         *

Decades later with both covers gone,

batter spots and sauce spills speckling

the pages, it dwells unused on a shelf.

Too many gelatin concoctions,

too heavy on the cream and butter,

too old school.

And yet I cannot trash it for what it

imparts: memories of a gift given

from my mother's heart.

Marilyn Aschoff Mellor