The Weekend Poems

Here are two poems I wrote over the weekend. Because Saturday and Sunday were so packed full of awesome, though, I didn't really have time to post them. Here they are, in all of their glory. I hope you like!

Tea

The aim, they say,
is to take you back to the time
where we had to be quick on our feet
and we lived on what we found

It almost works -- if it weren’t for
the crafted teapot, or the simple but polished
cups to brew, then pour, then drink
leaves that have been carefully preserved
for that illusion of raw age

There’s the creamy sage dressing
in a metal cup that’s splashed over kale
beets and carrots; they aren’t seasonal
but they haven’t been scraped and it’s feasible
they were cooked over an open flame

It’s a meager meal -- that part they’ve gotten right
and you look up after scraping the last of the seeds
from your polished wooden bowl
I catch the longing look you give my scone,
the same wild gleam our ancestors gave
when they saw something sweet

Go ahead, take it, there’s plenty for all --
there’s simple pleasure in watching you
devour the cream and jam, thinking
who would ever want to go back to that time
when we had to think on our feet
and only ate what we found?

What Happens With Sun and Water

All around me the trees are saying,
“I know I won’t be here forever.”
They prepare for the future in the way they always have
with an explosion of fruit and flower,
hoping to attract the air or the favor of birds
to carry their half of their progeny to the other.
Nature, of course, takes care of the rest.
The flowers are blatantly mistrustful of the good weather
so they ready themselves while they can,
screaming for bees in their way, offering the promise of food
that these insects can’t turn down --
they need to feed their young too, after all.
The buzz fills the air as I jog by,
everything making its plan to ensure that this,
just this, continues to happen next year.