$\"Star$ <\/p>\n

Star Bokeh \u2013 (c) by PM Pope<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

.<\/div>\n

Life Walk Bird Talk<\/strong><\/p>\n

News creeping seeping through my glow
\ntelling me what I don\u2019t want to know
\nbut need to to . . . ?<\/p>\n

Ugly stuff in need of antidote.<\/p>\n

Which is wife, cat, friends, family, life.<\/p>\n

And bird walks along Cleveland\u2019s Erie Canal Towpath Trail.<\/p>\n

Saw, heard, or was told
\nchipping sparrow, red-winged blackbird, cormorant,
\nmocking bird, robin, song sparrow, wood duck,
\ntowhee, flicker, red-bellied woodpecker,
\nwhite-throated sparrow,
\nmorning dove,
\ntree swallow, house sparrow,
\nnew beaver lodge and dam flooding boardwalk,
\nmallard, cardinal, cowbird, starling, seven swans flying,
\ncrow, kingfisher, rock pigeon sparrow, chickadee,
\nbluejay, bullfinch, geese, downy woodpecker,
\nand a ferret river bank running.<\/p>\n

My kinda news.<\/p>\n

~ Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n

.<\/div>\n
Owl Encounter<\/strong><\/p>\n
last night around 10pm I went outside and walked down the driveway toward the garage. In the dark, I noticed one of the maple tree limbs that hangs over the driveway had a new, interesting outcropping I had never seen before, a distinct silhouette against the citylight lit clouds. I know this tree well and all its forms, so well that this new shape stood out as special. As I walked toward it, looking up, I saw the shape begin to move, following my progress beneath it. Then it spoke to me:<\/p>\n
\u201cHoo. Hoo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I replied, \u201cMe. Me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The owl said \u201cTrue True\u201d<\/p>\n
I struggled to make conversation \u201cI\u2026 I\u201d<\/p>\n
The owl replied \u201cBUT WHY WHY\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s fine. Fine\u201d<\/p>\n
The tiny little owl sat on the tree limb till midnight.<\/p>\n
Thank you for the visit. I have a beautiful home. You are welcome here any time.<\/p>\n
Time.<\/p>\n
~ Cat Listening<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"Air$ <\/p>\n
Air Not by but for the King No One Knows What Song the Wind Will Sing \u2013 Agram Bigsby<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
Specific Paradise<\/strong><\/p>\n
Who came up with the epiphany
\nof paradise, a fan flush of feathers
\ncommitted in the specific like a woman
\nwith a brown body and brown eyes,
\nor a woman with red hair and green eyes,
\nor one with blond and blue<\/p>\n
Piano body a woman and mouth a man
\nthe authoritative voice of music with its peal
\nof percussion on plank octaves<\/p>\n
The snake is a repulsing but interesting animal
\nlooping in the branches<\/p>\n
Voice\u2019s voice as well a complex instrument
\nnot only to play, but to hear, and the snake again
\nturning, a mobile of a mobius on the porch,
\nalleluias in the card shuffle of the ancient
\nand original wind<\/p>\n
~ Lady<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
Ritual Rising<\/strong><\/p>\n
Coffee in the morning
\nkitty with the purr
\nwife with the kiss lips
\nhappiness pure<\/p>\n
~ Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"Rainbow$ <\/p>\n
Rainbow Jellyfish \u2013 Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\nBefore glittering mountains of silver swam the pained tongue of winter as your hand turned a key and unlocked sunlit doors of melting glass and the sweet music of the slow and lovely dance of Spring.<\/p>\n
~ Russell Vidrick\n<\/p><\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"Transformations$ <\/p>\n
Transformations a Digest \u2013 Agram Bigsby<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"Hive$ <\/p>\n
Hive 1 M \u2013 Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
$\"-$ <\/p>\n
\u2013 Mary Platz Hughes<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"In$ <\/p>\n
In In Spring Growing \u2013 Smith<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
this historical hysterical cage<\/strong><\/p>\n
i dont know if it was wild rhubarb, but the rhubarb
\nwas already there, perhaps planted by anothers
\nhands. the cherries came out blossoming in late
\nJanuary\u2013will they blossom once more, this true spring?<\/p>\n
i dont walk. i look out the window at birds gathering
\nlike the folds of a map on the eave of my porch
\nwhere i plant little seeds which wont hold them long,
\ni know.<\/p>\n
it was not until you pointed it out in your vague
\ntongue that i knew i possessed a seed-berry
\nof my own, which gives off shoots. i am eager to
\nput it to use\u2013but this weather! and i am no tree.<\/p>\n
there is nothing like the peck of finch beaks
\non 160 year old wood to make you get up and
\nwash dishes.<\/p>\n
redbud seed pods hang on yet, and
\nmummy tulips the poplar, from what i can
\nsee from my bed. just when will they cease
\nfinally to be the peaks of my captivity?<\/p>\n
i did eventually figure out why the water tower at times
\nis white, other times aquamarine. it has to do with
\nhow bright the sun and when it is i look out, wonderin\u2019.<\/p>\n
\u2013 Bree<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
$\"Sun$ <\/p>\n
Sun Shining Thru Translucent Clouds \u2013 KE<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
Status Report 13<\/strong><\/p>\n
Cat on chest.
\nPurr in ear.
\nFur feel face.<\/p>\n
~ Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
D A W N S B I R T H D A Y C A K E<\/strong><\/p>\n
the sun is a white moon. several vultures triangle
\nthe original blue sky where i look up walking
\nalong the snow in a street.
\na Volvo sedan doesnt even give me SYMBOLIC berthing!
\n& for the first time, i think,<\/p>\n
\u2018city person,\u2019<\/p>\n
my lips pursed, eyebrows in disgust.
\nthe fronts of four cows share the trough before cornfields
\nof snow. the square root of cake x pie =this white crowned
\nsparrow, feeding on the ground outside.
\none calf is running alone with joy, the last
\nfarm before the yard of orange birds
\nflicker like candles. skinny crick leads the eye to the
\nhalf-burned school, the soughs semi-permanent
\nwaves of frost cut into like
\nDawn\u2019s birthday cake.<\/p>\n
~ Bree<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
spring equinox 2016<\/strong><\/p>\n
the spring comes pressing
\nits wet nose into the knot
\nof winter longing<\/p>\n
~ wendy shaffer<\/p>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
$\"Spring$ <\/p>\n
Spring Traveler \u2013 (c) PM Pope<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
\n
$\"Yellow$ <\/p>\n
Yellow ~ Steven B. Smith<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n
\n
$\"Iris$ <\/p>\n
Iris 9\/23 ~ (c) PM Pope 2015<\/p>\n<\/div>\n
.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Star Bokeh \u2013 (c) by PM Pope . Life Walk Bird Talk News creeping seeping through my glow telling me what I don\u2019t want to know but need to to . . . ? Ugly stuff in need of antidote….<\/p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1247"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1247"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1247\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1279,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1247\/revisions\/1279"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1247"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1247"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thecitypoetry.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1247"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}