Playing with Words

My friend and I walk today,

the path drowsy with threatened rain,

bushes flattered into aspen brightness

or avocado-skin green, briers brown

as leather, crowding west toward

a white fence pointing the way

to the distant Cinderella highway.



When Joan dropped me off after our walk she said, Go write a poem. This is a five minute draft, not off the subject technique or other layers. I have no idea how it will or will not develop. My walking partner, Joan, is in Colorado with her son's family now. Anyway, this post is weeks after that walk. Whoops, there is more...



A pied-billed grebe disappears

in murky stream, waters low,

a stop sign surrounded by dry bushes

appears for us to puzzle over until we remember

high water in spring, low bridge ahead.

Concrete tunnel beneath the road

echoes with our footsteps

and a Halloween screech.



Downstream, the grebe emerges

shakes a drop from its bill

and submerges again.



I forgot that I had added on to the thing so I guess it was more like 15 minute draft. It needs a lot more revision but it is a start. Thanks Joan, for the challenge. You do that for me a lot and I appreciate your caring.