Amputated Moon

there was a Saturday

when grandmother, brother,

mother, and I

picked strawberries

bent low to the ground

baskets next to our feet

fingers searching for the next berry

long hours in the sun

basket after basket

filled with summer

filled with toil

filled with communion

hands picking berries

backs bent in humility

fingers sticky

volunteered labor

we were not chained

to the strawberry fields

like migrant workers

who picked for someone else

our berries were our own

carried back home

sliced and served

with the memories of the day

I would not find myself

in the fields again

a middle class child

full of middle class choice

full of a day spent

bending low

backs cramped and legs aching

picking strawberries

Pamela Olson, 12/30/08

It Blows My Mind

dust we are

dust we shall be

created by the leftovers

blown free from stars

ovens of creation

gods of the elements

atomic machines

set loose in the universe

tossing forth

hydrogen and carbon

building blocks

for you and I—

we are stardust

Pamela Olson, 12/29/08

For the prompt “Stardust”

at One Single Impression

and Monday Mural at Poefusion,

artwork by Pewxi

look at the maple

stripped:  barren

          vacant of life

winter has arrived

Pamela Olson, 12/27/08

Painting by Jiraphon Jumparphank

“Maple in Winter 4” published at

Artgazine.com

surely the child wasn’t born

in a whisper

in silence

golden light all around

she must have groaned

as she pushed

sweat and tears

falling onto the bed of hay

it would have been dark

unblemished shadows

just a lantern with a candle

dim light for a dim time

he would have held her hands

sat behind her

his shins a platform of love

a wall to gather strength from

faith must have been there

in the groaning

in the sweat

in the blood

it always is

faith that the child will arrive

crying out after that

first spontaneous in-breath

this night is balanced

on the razor’s sharp edge

one side an ordinary birth

the other a miracle

Pamela Olson, 12/24/08

For Three Word Wednesday

“faith, whisper, miracle”

Time

look

at the space between

heart and soul

where memories

are lodged

like driftwood

tossed here and there

on the sand

in the rip rap

that carefully-laid

thoroughly-planned

erosion barrier

find

the time we walked

along the waterfront

holding hands

smelling the salt air

tasting the fish and chips

hearing the ferry’s harsh horn

the colors and sounds of the city

here is the recording

of our words

set sail on the tidal currents

departing on schedule

see

hiding in the crook

of the sea-smoothed branch

the long road across country

all the small words

that passed between

you and I

they are soft

worn out by time

they are feathers

that drift up from the sand

and into the pewter sky

Pamela Olson 12/23/08

Monday Mural (image by CasallArt)

and Tuesday Title, “If you forget me”

at Poefusion

River of Darkness by Jay Gidwitz

The river of the dark night

overflows its banks

crossing the highway

and rising in the yard

minutes and hours

tick by

one by one

never ending

drops of blackness

spatter on my windows

a stream of shade

slides under the door

the night is long

and so very dark

wet and cold

in the rising tide of winter

will you swim with me

in the blessed darkness

will you baptize me

with your cold fire

dampen my flame

quench my thirst

this night—

this long dark night

wait with me

here in this boat

of darkness cradled

in the river of the dark night

Pamela Olson, 12/21/08

In honor of winter solstice

and the prompt “Winter’s Day”

at One Single Impression

Artwork by Jay Gidwitz

River of Darkness

Nasa photo

You came to me in the darkness

Where am I

I cried in my dreams

lost in the mist

following only fence posts

You found me in the darkness

O Mystery

Where am I

I cried to you

lost in the mist

You are here

deep in my bones

running in the river of my muscles

swimming in the still pools of my eyes

caught up in the strands of my hair

Mysterious One

Light in the darkness

Guide in the mist

I am found

Deep within your bones

Pamela Olson, 12/14/08

I caught the thunderbird last night

in the roiling darkness

slamming itself against the window

over and over again

not seeing the glass

only wanting to fly through

I opened the window

and was pushed back

by its broad-sounding wings

its feathers deep in my ears

buzzing and tickling

its broad beak sharp upon my head

its body caught in my arms

frantic for escape

low cries like moans

filled the room

reverberating on my breastbone

playing out along my ribs

I caught the thunderbird last night

in the stormy darkness

and held it close for just a moment

then let it go— free

to fly back out into the sky

leaving its call behind

Pamela Olson, 12/12/08

For Writer’s Island’s prompt #10

Most Amazing Experience

the line angles abruptly

at the paper’s swift edge

up at a furious constancy

rhomboid in its fantasy

always traveling

while our voices whisper

through paralleled lines

past congruent lives

tracing conversations

arcing over unsaid thoughts

Pamela Olson, 12/7/08

For the prompt “doodles”

at One Single Impression

Reflection Mandala by Teri

wrapped tightly around steel girders

swaying in the bones of buildings

twisted in conduits

dampened down

by the grates lining the streets

the ancient stories lie asleep

in the daylight, but—

they drift forth each evening

sitting in the porticos

stepping across the gutters

reflected in the shuttered windows

they whisper to the wanderers

who dream deep in their minds

who hold the stories within their desires

Pamela Olson, 12/6/08

Inspired by Rick Mobbs’

painting “City Lights”

at Mine Enemy Grows Older