by Carol Casey The path is trodden, dusty, level.You know it will take youwhere many have gone. Step off—tangles of brambles,sometimes with blackberries,more often with little clawsthat catch on clothes and skin;and tortuous tree roots—inconvenient, sacred data unearthed—subterranean snakelets somehowsifted into snarls for feet to catch.There are stems that twine…
by Eleanore Lee Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine It flows, pours pastLike our loves?The waves are surging up Baker Beach shore(Fukushima-flavored waves, my love?)Yes, crouch on the wet sand and breathe in that cold roar! Did you remember yourBathing suit? Sandals? Me?Faut-il qu’il m’en souvienne…?Everything? Must I? Hand…
by Eleanore Lee Glow from belowWaves are all aboutHow we go. They’re aboutHow we see and hear. Sea undulatesAlwaysSurges and fallsHere bright glitterOf surface sparkleGleaming streamsThat pull and heave.Watch the wake!See the dolphins leap and plunge by the side of our boat, weaveThrough the water,up and down.Cataclysms of foamPour in…
by Eleanore Lee A yellow mist floats along the rim of the far hill. In the dawning spring it sprang up by itself. We didn’t notice it happening. It just appeared. Up close the juicy little leaves look like clover, But they’re not. The sparkling blossoms small and brilliant. No…