Category: Poetry Page 2 of 9

Both hands and their fingers

And thumbs

Can drum on a hollow surface

When boredom wants something to do

Those vice grip thumbs

Ready to help their partners

Eight fidgety fingers

Each with their own little brain

So many things they can do

How about make a basket?

Train your fingers to make something useful

Keep up the good work

Keep those nails clean and trimmed

Don’t forget your fingers

Where would you be with even one missing digit?

You are incredible

You do a thousand things

Without us even thinking

They are so automatic

Good job fingers

Good job

Tom Stock – basket and mat maker

Big, round red tomatoes

Sit beside a cutting board

With the sharpest, serrated knife I own

I cut hem in half, then half these

Gut the pulp

Lay the juicy, red strips on a screen

Set it in full sunshine

Cover with netting

No insects permitted

Hot days are best for evaporation

It may take three or four days

The day star will do its work

No electric dehydrator for me.

These leathery almost sightless strips

Shrunken and dry

Are ready for February

When you bring the sunlight back.

They sat in a circle, cross legged
Drumming, rattling, singing,
It is a circle of medicine, family
Our clan and all our relations:
The winged, four legged, many legged,
The finned, grandfather rocks,
The leafy beings, and the Mother

A blazing fire and glowing faces
Womp womp womp da da womp
Boom da da boom da da boom
Children, women, men
The pipe, the smoke

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For thousands of years
We were innocent – human activity was small
Now it’s our fault
We are choking the planet
Most of us are good people
BUT…just by our existence,
We are not good for the planet
There’s too many of us

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I don’t like sudden
It’s too sudden
Like a champagne bottle cork about to pop
I know it will happen, but I jump anyway

I want things slow
No surprises
Show me a world
Where there are ample warnings
Where slow changes are slow

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Facebook is not for me
I let myself get sucked in
Commenting with stupid stuff
And this takes away
From my longing to be engaged
With the natural world
To have my hands in soil
Planting things
Watching things grow
Hearing the wind and rain
How can Facebook complete
with a real tree?

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Time to put on pants
And start the morning
Get things done
Anything is possible

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