Amputated Moon

You said it snowed today

the sky glittered

with tiny flakes

Here— it is spring again

my weeping cherries

want to bloom

Pamela Olson, 12/07

Along the westward horizon

the ambered light

drips along earth’s curve

like honey driven

from the hive

by a multitude of bees

golden nourishment

for a barren sky

Pamela Olson, 1/07

The alder leaves

only haunt the tree

mere ghosts now

in this late summer

Torn and tattered

beyond green

they move toward fall’s

littered landscape

Bite by bite the season

consumes each leaf

until it slides

from sky to earth

Only branches

tipped with cones remain

and the lichen-mottled trunk

waits for rebirth

Pamela Olson, 9/05

Trinity of black-bodied surfers,

father, son, and holy ghost,

gather themselves along the wave line.

Their boards– sometimes underfoot,

sometimes underhanded,

solid supports in shifting space;

immersed in baptismal water,

bodies buoyed by black

neoprine along surface swells

catch the break and ride ashore.

Pam Olson, 02/05

Sunrise over the coast range;

trees like lit taper candles.

Golden light waxing

down basalt cliffs,

Melting over the wave crests,

down the dark troughs,

mixing light and water

into a gossamer mist;

As if thousands of spiderlings

suddenly threw their

parachutes up and out

on the morning breeze.

 

Pamela Olson, 1/05