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Prompted

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In April I subscribed to the daily prompts put out by Two Sylvias Press.  I’ve done this before, I always get behind, and I do well if half of the prompts lead to something useful.  A few prompts spark new poems, but more often I produce what I think of as “pomelets” (“pome -lets” sounds better to me than “po-emlets”).

Here’s one, my response to the prompt: write a journal entry for a famous fictional character:

Roadrunner’s Journal

It’s a living, harassing Coyote,
somebody has to do it,
but is it a life?  Wish I could
find a mate, breed chicks,
a next generation, a legacy of sorts,
though I hear offspring can be unreliable,
reject their parents’ values,
go off their own way.  Mine
wouldn’t leave the desert would they?
That golf course, damp and green,
might tempt them to deny their heritage.
I only go to visit, briefly.

Roadrunners have a challenge figuring out how to coexist with the increasing number of humans, and their golf courses, in their territory.  I saw two in a neighbor’s front yard on one of my walks recently and wondered where they make their nest.

He’s Back

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distanceWhen we first arrived in Las Cruces, the huge Roadrunner at the rest area looking over the city from the west seemed like a major symbol for the city.  After a few years he had to be taken away for maintenance.  He is made entirely of old “stuff” and pieces were coming loose.

close upWhile he was under repair there was a great deal of discussion about where he should be re-installed.

sideWe were pleased to see, on our first trip west in some time last week, that the original site won out.  He looks very grand there, and very perky.rearThe giant roadrunner has his eye on the city once again.

Photos courtesy of Paul Young.

 

Happy Autumn!

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Autumn’s just beginning, but I’m thinking of the tree outside my window at my old house: a small red-leaved maple.  Beside it in the front yard was a small green-leaf maple, so in fall we had a two-toned orange and red carpet across the lawn.

Autumn is my favorite season, though I don’t dislike any of them.  It’s the time when my energy rises and all things seem possible.  “Maybe this is the year I reach my full potential,” my heart sings, even as my head labors to track all the events filling the calendar.  So much of our activity rises and falls with the school schedule, though no one in the household has been in school for many a year.  This is the pattern of society, and I think the weather has more to do with it than we may want to believe.Now, instead of the decades-old maple tree, probably planted when the house was built, I look out my window at a small mesquite tree, just six years old, which I planted myself.  It too will turn color later in the season, though its color will be a rather uninspired yellow.  It and I have settled in together.  It is now growing at a steady pace, and so can I.

On the day I began drafting this post, a roadrunner appeared in our back yard.  This pleased me greatly, because I want our yard, small though it is, to be a wildlife haven.  How he came in I have no idea, but he was finding good things to eat.  He wouldn’t pose for the camera, but here he is enjoying the shade of the small mesquite tree.

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