Friday, January 22, 2016

As the Storm Begins
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


You know the storm is coming, it’s been in the news for days.
“A big one,” they say. “Blizzard!” But, there sits this little brown
bird, a winter wren, appropriate as that may be, atop a lovely
candelabra of crimson sumac berries. The first big flakes have
settled upon him. There’s something magical about that.
Something wonderful. You’ve been rushing about doing chores,
bringing in wood, filling buckets with water. He meditates.
What is it that you have not yet learned?



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"
To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

Monday, January 18, 2016

Mockingbird in Winter
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


All winter, Mockingbird, in his steel-gray
suit, perches atop the tangled thicket of
multi-flora rose, swallowing bright red
rose hips and awaiting the next blessed moment,
brief as it may be, when the sun stirs
a drowsy insect awake and into a fine death.

It’s a rather odd thing to watch him in silence,
mine and his. We both have so much to
say, and hearts that have forgotten need translators.
I wonder about words pulled from the voice of
the world and words pulled from within.
Are they so different?

You give us the instruction:

“Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”

I’m sitting with that, as the mockingbird sits not
far from my window pane, fluffed and
elegant, and fully aware that I am watching him.
And, maybe too, he knows that I am wondering.

It can be hard to speak without contempt for
this self-led world, but he does it all summer long.
And, I try my best.

What is it like to shake off shell fragments and
become the great celebrator of life?

~

I think the mockingbird needs another name.

And, I want to tell it to the world.



© 2016-2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Sunday, January 10, 2016

The Pale Mists
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


We must have been two of those old poets of China. I remember
being in good company, sitting on a rough-cut bench, smoking 
long pipes through streaming grey beards, high in the 
cloud-cloaked mountains. They say that masters come in many 
forms. For us, I think that it was the pale mists. How they taught 
us to see what we couldn’t see. How they taught us to write 
about unspeakable things.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Sunday, January 3, 2016

So This is Fear
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


“So this is fear,” I say when the stand is taken.

“So this is fear,” I say when the next stand is taken.

Have you ever seen love take a stand?

Kneel. I have seen love kneel.  



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share