Poetry

"Summer A Peel"
by Martha Everette Ramirez

I go so far inside my mind
I am surprised the things I find,
Memories both good and bad
Childish dreams forgot I had.

What happened to the skinned knee girl
Who held no fear against the world?

Barefoot racing down the rocky road
Scooping up the occasional toad,
In hand me down jeans of my bro
flying up the tree far as could go.

When all it took to make me happy
was an ice popsicle shared with Kathy.

Half a century under my belt
and I miss how the summer sun felt
freeing up my mind from books
tempting me with bronzing looks.

Hours on end out under its rays
Cooking my outside all the days.

I wish what I know now I knew back then
Bronzer in a jar is better for the skin.
But orangey tans do nothing for my mind
There's no heat brought wisdom to find.

For it's only in the summer's heat
that I find the answers which I seek.

SPF 85 in tow
I'm eased yet eager out to go.

In search of the answers in my mind
For what in life I hoped to find.
It's been there all the while
I miss my brave inner child.

To touch, to taste, to find, and to feel
Different and new not afraid to peel
Back the curtain and peek at what tomorrow brings
No worries, no reasons, no doubts, and no strings.



"The Feathered Architect"
by Martha Everette Ramirez

As I grabbed the morning paper
By the plastic bag cover’s edge,
Out skirted a feathered architect
From ’neath the neighbor’s hedge;
Up picked the torn off fragment
In her pointy yellow beak,
Secured as tree limb foundation
To ward off any future leak;
Added sprinkler watered earth mud
From the yard and flower bed,
Wove tree needles, twigs, and bits o’ grass
Right there just above my head;
I watched with intrigue and marvel
The continued hunt and find,
Scavenger bits of man made discards
Put an idea in my mind;
But before I could pose farther
Any other addition I would make,
The paper straw wrapper from my Pepsi
Blew down so she did take.
I knew what next needed adding
To the feathered architect’s busy work,
With scissors in hand and craftiness
The classifieds soon strips ’neath the tree would lurk;
Greedily gathered by the beakful
Twice her body’s weight,
In newspaper offerings that soon
Were sculpted by her and her mate;
Crafty feathered architects
Make use of earth treasures to create,
The weirdest looking bird nest that
Some snooty art critic would surely hate.
I though think she is just splendid
In her recycle ability,
How use was made of anything
I laid there by the tree.
I went in and found embroidery thread
In the back of my junk drawer,
Reds, blues, and purple were shunned
But whites were wanted more;
Seems she’s not as artful
As I would have hope for,
Bright colors and sparkly fabrics
She left there to ignore;
Muted natural color palette
This avian artist is content,
Too much notice would the
Red and blue have lent;
As the paper clippings dangle
‘Neath the tree limb nest against the breeze,
A spectacular sculpted home awaits
The blue treasures she dropped with ease.
What started as a clutch of one
Soon became two, three, then four,
The purest baby blue shells house
Endless hours of a sitting chore;
Those four perfect eggs
She sits upon hours upon end,
Rolling them over equally
As her mate for worms she send;
He is sort of overlooked in
The effort he does aid,
As he stands the constant sentinel
Twittering of any impending nest raid;
He helped in the construction and
Now watches in defense,
Always ready to swoop in
With justice to dispense.
Each day I visit back by their nest checking in
On how my feathered friends might be,
Having the well water sprinkler working overtime
Water the earth so worms were easier to see;
Once hatched those four babies will be eating
Three hundred fifty pieces of worms each,
Two more weeks before she gets sick of
Them and shoves them out of reach;
In the end it will come to just
A bit shy of twenty thou,
Bits of worm ripped and shared
My feather architect may then take her bow;
Two years a piece is about all they have to share
I doubt I will see again this feathered architectural pair,
Perhaps of their four that survive
One will remain;
To create a masterpiece nest
And once again,
In my tree blue eggs shall then rest;
I admire you my feathered architect
For the love that you share,
In the making of your family
With hours of endless care;
Providing for the needy and protecting the weak,
The inspiration you have given me
Is more than I can speak.
Calendar months are thirty one
Add a day and that's how long,
Before my feathered architect's
Nest went from eggs hatched then gone;
Perfect powder sky blue orbs
Released pink fleshy big-eyed
Bald flippered four hungry more
Than mom could tend so one died;
The trio remained hunched side to side
As their nest grew smaller and smaller
Bravest of the clutch on air did glide
Over to the top of the hedge to call her;
Next one out soon followed by last
Scattered vanished before I could flash,
Tweet familiar from under the truck
Neighbor cat's coming better take cover fast.
Up over the drive clenched on the pole wire
Sits the mom with plump worm in her beak;
Not any more ready than I to let go
Looking to find her babies is hide 'n seek.
I point to the one that made way to the hedge
Mom heard also that tweet so in goes to see
Comes back out wormless in time for my pledge;
I promised my feathered architect my yard
Was hers for the next and next clutch,
Reused your glorious nest if you must
More robins I'd love very much.