Mothers and Farmers: more poems from the shelf...

More delving into notebooks...I've photographed the poems written on walls but not done anything with them yet. So many poems, so little organisation, but what matters to me is that they're there with a life of their own, even if they need some polishing. So today, here's two more...this time from the Red Notebook.

My Mother's Trees (2007)

From the bathroom window, my
Mother watches her trees. She says the
Aspen is the lady in a crinoline, the
Tall poplar the gentleman. The lady
Twirls and light catches her as she dips and turns.
Other trees would like to dance, but they
Crowd together to watch the lady. No room for
Other dancers here. The wind carries
Music for accompaniment: the
Sunlit jewels of her gleaming leaves shine
As she gavottes. My mother
watches the dance, enthralled.
Soon my mother may not remember
Words to describe her. But
She will still be dancing.

***********

Cotton Farmers: India 2007

White bolls like rabbit scuts
Fill your hands; goes nowhere.
Your double hands full can't compete with
10,000 acres of mid-west America.
On a downward slope, pay out for GM seeds
No sale. No return.
The pesticide you bought on loan
To protect your artificial seed
When swallowed, does the trick.
No return.