The Caragana Hedge

A Caragana hedge is a fine thing if you need
a fast growing border; a foliage filter to
shut out a less than scenic view or to
break the wind’s stride.

 Our Caragana hedge did none of these things.
Tall, thick and thorny, impassible, impossible
to keep trimmed. It was an illogical barrier
trailing self importantly along the driveway,
the arbitrary divide that cut off my view of the gardens.

Yesterday we took the chainsaw to the caragana
we wore gloves and lined the truck box with a tarp
to protect ourselves and the paint job from clawing branches,
then we hauled them down to the burning pile.
It took four trips. They fought us
and each other going into the truck
but slid out as a solid tangle, clinging to each other.

The Caragana hedge, stumps flush to the ground,
is less than a memory now.
We sit back and look across the yard,
something we’ve never done before, and we ask each other
“Why didn’t we do this years ago?”
“Why didn’t we do this years ago?”

 

#226

H to S

H is for Hope abandoned.
I is for Ignorance, the comfortable shroud.
J is for Justification.
K is for Knowing you can’t just lay down.

L is for Lies and betrayal.
M is for Monitors beeping at night.
N is for Nightmares of flaring.
O is for Onlooker with his hands tied.

P is for People and Poison and Pipelines that bleed.
S is for Sanity and Safety, both casualties of greed.

 

#225

Dubious Caraway

Some things  are other things
than what we may have thought,
like mushrooms that are edible versus
mushrooms that are not.

or caraway seeds scattered
on your kitchen table
that though surrounded by the crumbs
may not be from your bagel.

And if that isn’t quite enough,
even unseen things are fraught
with that which masquerades
as that which it is not.

Words of love can hide disdain
while laughter hides the tears,
truth is often shot with lies,
and not as it appears.

Say you love me, laugh with me,
and don’t go in disguise.
I’d rather eat dubious caraway
than have you tell me lies.

 

#223

The Unreasonable Request

Yes, I can say ‘no.’
I can dig in my heels but
is it worth the fight?

No, I won’t say yes.
Reasons are subjective but
I’m not your subject.

Maybe there’s a place
somewhere in the middle ground
where we can agree.

Yes, no, and maybe.
Will we meet in the middle
or shall I go home?

 

#222

Life the Puzzle

Oh to write a poem or song
and own a few words for a while,
to make them mirrors for your heart and then
to throw them all in to a little Crown Royal bag
like scrabble tiles,
shake them around, listen to them rattle,
then pour them out and start again.
Life the puzzle
Poems and lyrics the clues.

 

#221

Water Dreams

Streams and streams of water dreams
trickle through my brain it seems
that last night I imbibed far too much tea.
Brooks that babble, waves that crash,
water canteens slosh and splash
and wake me in the night quite urgently.

But not before they inundate
my poor brain with unrelated
images of soggy situations.
And just before the geyser blows
my eyes pop open and I know
the bathroom is my ultimate destination.

Water dreams, oh, water dreams
in glorious variety team
and wreak nocturnal havoc ‘pon my pons
My rem in remnants, my id all irked
I wake with hypnagogic jerk
bathroom bound again, with a yawn.

Three times, four? I can’t recall
how many trips made down the hall,
how many times those dreams awakened me.
Bleary with sleep fragmentation
I swear in weary exasperation
next time I’ll go easy on the tea.

 

#220

Greenhouse Glow

So there I was, just me and the mad dogs,
my English roots glinting in the mid day sun,
cleaning out the greenhouse.
Telling over old pots, faded seed packets, and leaky watering cans
and why do I have three of those little fork type hand tools
and only one trowel? Taking everything outside and scrubbing
off the neglect, resigning myself to consigning
the worst to the rubbish tip.

Yes there I was, the sun spinning around me
when you found me and shaking
your head said “look at your shoulders, they’re bright red”
and I looked although I knew you wouldn’t lie about
pain; current or impending
“Oh my, this is going to hurt” I thought.
I really ought to know better, and I put on
a shirt like closing the barn door and later that day,
aloe anointed, fiery red shoulders
banked to a dull glow, I sigh
“Oh well, at least I got the greenhouse cleaned out.”

#219