This is the latest issue of Poet's Corner brought to you by Edmonds-based EPIC Poetry Group.
Gift exchange
Vary your old homemade recipes on a whim
One cup of water, one quarter cup of sugar
Now it's a fancy exotic blend from a high-end nursery.
It claims to be “infused with wildflowers.” “Distilled hydrosols.”
It is one of the most popular flowers for hummingbirds.
I think it's worth a try
The next morning you start giving me treats.
They visit one after the other and often float almost motionless.
Your red throat is burning
Iridescent glow
The wave of green energy continues to surge
Your presence reverberates outside the steamy window.
My heart is shining
Like me happily humming golden oldies songs
Sending a “Thank You”
Behind the Green Sanctuary
A treasure trove of shiny new seeds
Swaying in the Wind
I didn't notice it at first, but now it's overflowing
With the beak of a small thrush
Two little squirrels perform seed-stealing acrobatics
In front of twin Steller's Jays flashing blue
Drive away competitors
Nearby, a flock of inquisitive crows gather to discuss things.
Are those little morsels worth the effort?
Once an agreement is reached, they toddle and hop away.
Thank you everyone for always entertaining me
Tom Fortin
～～～～
Kitchen Magic
Waves flow into me from my tiny kitchen
Beef, fat, onions, olive oil, etc.
The heat envelopes the food… and me.
Beneath every scent there is a constant rustling noise
It clatters, opens, and tosses it away.
Cooking and mixing is going well.
The most beautiful sound
Her contented humming, her gentle tone
Song title unknown
But the feeling is entirely familiar
My lovely and happy cookware.
Rising with the steam she treasures
Memories of my beloved mother
Add flavour to old handwritten recipes
Her love and their loving spirit surrounds us all.
Tom Fortin
～～～～
Shavings
I frowned at the sight of my half-awake face in the bathroom mirror.
Mint-scented foam dribbles down his unshaven cheeks.
cheap disposable gillette
Carry out routine morning tasks
Like grass clippings stubbornly going down the drain.
Miraculously, no blood leaks out when I shake and accidentally hit it.
Another new day begins.
I remember many years ago, when I was in the eighth grade.
I worked the old hand plane back and forth.
The scratched up woodworking table was littered with curled up pieces of wood.
The fine-grained oak resisted my crude and untrained efforts.
Complete a simple rectangle for what will become the lamp.
A year or two later, on a cold July night at camp,
My fellow Boy Scouts and I were crouching near a pile of tree branches.
They are very carefully arranged in a tent-like shape.
A beginner's hand handling a sharp knife
Chip away tiny pieces from the alder and cedar we have raked.
We young fire-makers learned the craft with enthusiasm and anxiety.
Yes, we were eager to learn something new that night.
But most of all, I'm looking forward to eating it!
Ah, the many roads we travel, the stories and tailings we leave behind
It records the moments when we become who we were meant to be.
Tom Fortin
～～～～～
About the poet:
I've been a high school and community college teacher for many years, and currently spend a lot of my time working on “Fooling with Words.” My active interest in creating my own poetry began with Bill Moyers's 1998 PBS series titled “Fooling with Words.” These days, I've enjoyed presenting my poetic endeavors more publicly.
I love my current life in Lynnwood/Edmonds/Snow King, and the vibrant artistic atmosphere that surrounds us here today fills my heart and poetic spirit to overflowing.
