Thursday, December 31, 2009

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"

Saturday, December 19, 2009


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...

Thursday, December 17, 2009


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

Friday, December 11, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
restored to purity: one world of white
without two human footprints in sight
~ Ho-o

Wednesday, December 09, 2009


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 .

Monday, December 07, 2009


Photo by S. Auberle
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

Saturday, December 05, 2009


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

Thursday, December 03, 2009


Photo from the Internet
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."