Bio Note: I alternate my time between hiking in the white pines of the Ice Age Trail and sitting behind an old oak desk found in the classified section. Eventually a poem shows up. Once Upon a Tar Creek: Mining for Voices is coming out later this year. It is about an environmental disaster where the water is orange.
Waiting In the Rain for the #11 Bus
Springfield, Oregon logging trucks race west down Main Street their oversized tires spray early spring chill and muck to the curb where I shiver and wait but soon find a not too far away dry spot where a lone cedar calls me to share protection I inhale sweet green smell caress her harsh-needled branches till the # 11 splashes to my stop I climb the steps to the crowded humidity of too many bodies look back as my heart chants Cedar. Cedar, Oh, Beloved Cedar
After Finding a Four Leaf Clover at Robert Frost’s Cabin
Middlebury, Vermont You would think accolades of admiration for all those scribbles tucked into scraps of napkins, pretty-covered journals back to school notebooks would be on their way to print glory but now more than anything I think of my mother whose eyes for rogue clovers and crawdads left her giggling in wet grass and rock-strewn creeks no need for luck or praise when smack before her, wide-open pay-attention eyes found treasure most folks never even know to chase
©2021 Maryann Hurtt
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