Tracy McPherson, US

 

Free Verse   Wondering   Wondering? No tweets no texts no voice mail nothing in the mailbox but dust and disappointment? No no no not a power failure a power reclamation I took mine back no longer at your beck and call     New Moon   New moon A slice of sugared lemon suspended on the edge of surf     What is that?   What is that? Oh yes, the question of her hair “why did she do that?” “what was she thinking” there must be fire in her head all mixed up with the snow is that why those streaks are red? Yes, let's blame it on that fire in her head and she seldom wears a hat deciding, before she's dead it's ok to be silly, she will be bold too old to be told not a challenge to others, to find their level of tolerance and acceptance after all, it's only an appearance     Poem   Charmer you stole my heart stole my money too shattered my dreams I took down my wanted sign you know, the one that said only gangsters, cowboys, cops or outlaws need apply dried my eyes and heaved a big sigh Rescuers cost too much and Hero's are statues with feet of clay, or sandwiches from Subway men of adventure not on my menu not today     Our Arrangement ] Our arrangement began noisily he picked up a centipede threw it down on the porch railing giving me an angry look he huffed away moments later he is inspecting the bird feeder returning to the back porch again he picks up the now very dead centipede and returns to the feeder with great drama he drapes the centipede over the edge of the feeder. I decide it is time to see what his fuss is really about. Taking a stool, I stand on it to look into the feeder a square of tile with a three quarter round molding frame it is supported on an old pipe putting it nearly six feet off the ground The feeder is empty! Oh Sir! I am so sorry, I will refill this right now. He flies to the back door and waits, watching me as I pour out a full measure of seed refilling his cache. Flying around me he perches on the edge and breaks out a short song. Happily fed later he returns to my back porch bringing another centipede which he dispatches quickly and gives me another song. So began the arrangement between the Red Bird and I, centipedes and song traded for seed.     The Box Man   The box was slightly battered he approached stealthily looking it over, sniffing stepping back cautiously he takes on attack mode launching himself like a furry missile wham! The box rocks and rolls on its convex bottom whoosh! He reverses launch with a startled look choking on my laughter and coffee he gives me a baleful look and snorts his body language clearly stating “I planned that entire scene”     I heard them calling   The buds began to open giving off a fragrance of lemon and gardenia accompanied by the sound of tiny bells it's still dark, only 3:30 in the morning opening sleepy eyes, I rise searching for rubbah slippahs quietly I walk to the orchard Hoku, our dog, bumps her head against my knee listening to elementals and flowers we stand there for hours feeling the sun rise we wander back to the house noting cat's watchful eyes     Haiku   Quiet morning sun breaking through Herons in regal stance     Wine chillin' steak marinating Friday night beach     Free Verse   The Dances   Ballet in the park little boys sitting perfectly still on the grass, bored little girls leaning against the stage sparkling dreams dancing round their heads Tango on the stage little boys posing and strutting testosterone already oozing little girls aflutter with sighs     Untitled   It rolled under my foot like a nut or bolt something round I picked it up a silver ring set with moonstone I saw the rainbows in it