2010 MOTTO

Group painting by women of At the Well

While on a recent holiday visit with grandchildren, my seven year old grandson wrote on the steamed back window of the car:

Mimi rocks!

That's it for 2010--my motto. Wishing you all peace, joy and safe travel tonight, wherever your celebrations may take you. It is a full moon you know, and not only that, a blue moon..."once in a blue moon"

Magic...

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

May all the blessings

of the earth shine upon you.

Que les bonnes choses de la vie

illuminent, cette periode benie.

Que todas las bendiciones

de la tierra te iluminen.

Wishing you peace,

good health

&

good cheer...

WINTER BRIDE

Photo by S. Auberle

Some say Winter

is a cruel old man,

breath a frigid howl,

white whip of his beard

slashing fiercely in the cold,

but I say

Winter is a bride,

her dress the wedding

of wind and moonlight,

voice a whisper

of virgin snow.

She hears

the naked trees sighing,

their branches reaching for her

like eager arms.

~ mimi

WINTER HAIKU

Photo by S. Auberle

restored to purity: one world of white

without two human footprints in sight

~ Ho-o

BLIZZARD

Photo by S. Auberle

Blizzard last night and today--at 9:00 a.m. this morning no snowplows yet, not a single vehicle moving. Winds are fierce, up to 50 mph, heavy snow spinning sideways, plastering the windows, turning the east side of the house into a cave. Two seagulls and a crow whirl through the air, and a small, brown bird clings precariously to a feeder. The mind can't comprehend how such a tiny scrap of life can hang on, let alone survive and take in enough food in this wind, without simply blowing away. The Christmas tree is lit, classical music plays. We still have power, many in the county do not. Venison stew sends earthy aromas through the house. A geranium, an orchid and a Christmas cactus bloom brightly in the black and white day. All that was to be today is cancelled. What's left is shelter, warmth and food, and we are ever so grateful.

Very pleased to announce the nomination of my poem--"Crow Ink"--for the 2009 Pushcart Prize. Thanks to the editorial staff of Quill & Parchment on-line journal for the honor. Check out their fine magazine at quillandparchment.com/ .

PEARL HARBOR

Photo by S. Auberle

DECEMBER 7, 1941 - PEARL HARBOR

I imagine my mother that night,

listening to the radio,

Glenn Miller's String of Pearls,

Edward R. Murrow wishing the world

good night and good luck

then breaking news...

the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

My mother's hands are folded

on the mound that is me,

that pulsating cord connecting us.

I wonder if I know her fear,

feel the tightening, the terror,

the anger, suppressed

because of the child in her belly.

She feels me moving beneath her dress,

and thinks of Japanese mothers

and their babies soon to be born,

as I will be born three months later.

I have not yet lived long enough

to see world peace.

So many never have the chance.

~Sharon Auberle

AN UNFINISHED POEM

Photo by S. Auberle

snow skittering down the road

this morning, the only color

two cardinals

and withered apples

on forgotten trees...

inside, windows steam

but there is a yellow egg

on the old blue plate

I ate from as a child

and the haunting notes

of Brian Boru's March

adding to sweet melancholy...

only nine hours

of daylight today

as Solstice nears

dark at four p.m....

last, brittle leaves

fly away in the wind

taking words with them

the ones I would have used

to finish this poem...

~ mimi

HOW TO GET THROUGH A DAY

Photo from the Internet

HOW TO GET THROUGH A DAY

WHEN ALL THE TALK IS OF WAR

First you notice the mellow afternoon,

with the oak glowing bronze

by your front door and one last bee,

drunk on October and fallen apples,

weaving down your window screen.

Then you might try

frying an onion

and lots of garlic in some olive oil.

While that fragrance is luring

all manner of creatures to your door,

you could puree two cans

of Caribbean-style black beans

with about one half can of chicken broth,

then mix it all together,

along with the rest of the can of broth

to heat through. Add a dollop

of sour cream in each bowl

and serve with red wine, some olives,

a green salad with the hint of oil and vinegar,

and a fresh, crusty French baguette

that you must tear apart in the best spirit

of breaking bread--with an old lover,

or a friend who knew you when.

Alone is good, too, with Bach

and a book of poetry.

Then indulge, enjoy, surrender
to this moment that is all there is:

to the bee, the oak, the falling night,

to this prelude of smoky light,

golden against evening shadows.

~ Sharon Auberle

This poem, I'm pleased to say, won first place

in one of the categories of The Triad, a contest

sponsored by the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets.

The theme was "food."