Weather Pattern
Last year,
the climate gods
outdid themselves,
sent multiple hurricane spirals
swirling across radar screens, oceans and islands –
thick white clouds,
of ominous whipped cream.
This year,
California skies
filled again with ash-gray smoke.
Viewed from above,
it was a deceptive curtain
that hid the devastation
and heartache
below.
Handle With Care
(Published in Stanislaus Connections, May, 2020)
Earth is losing patience,
becoming imbalanced.
Once even tempered,
she is now subject to extreme mood swings,
prolonged spells of fiery passion,
floods of despair,
weeks of depression and disappointment.
Her mind is muddled, confused;
her eyes stare at a clock only she can see,
her compass no longer points true.
Feeling ignored,
she is raising her voice,
her once gentle whispers intensified to gale-force winds,
all with the same message:
Pay attention to what I am saying!
Listen to your mother!
Dry Reflections
I.
Submerged tree stumps reveal harsh secrets
in Mono, Tenaya and Tahoe lakes;
now just waterlogged remnants,
they once took root in silty lakebeds
when water levels plummeted,
grew in arid climate for hundreds of years,
their history permanently etched in narrow barcodes
of growth which prove the existence of megadroughts –
cautionary tales for twenty-first century Californians
who agonize over lack of rain
for a mere four years
II.
Parched grass crunches underfoot
in Central Valley front yard;
spigot turns, water runs downhill from coiled hose
straight to the mow strip and young Gingko tree,
already a veteran of dry conditions
it gulps eagerly as dust turns to mud.
Street cleaner swishes around the corner,
water sprays on hot asphalt,
permeates the air
with unexpected soothing scent
of imitation rain
III.
We learn from trees
who know how to survive --
to slow growth, take in less water,
strip down to bare essentials,
even shed leaves
in desperation
A retired educator, Nancy Haskett has been writing poetry for many years and has been published in more than 40 publications, including Homestead Review, Iodine Press, Miller’s Pond, Monterey Poetry Review and many others. She has presented her poetry at the Carnegie Arts Center in Turlock, the Modesto City Council chambers, Second Tuesday Readings at the Barkin’ Dog in Modesto, as well as other places. Nancy enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her family.
Last year,
the climate gods
outdid themselves,
sent multiple hurricane spirals
swirling across radar screens, oceans and islands –
thick white clouds,
of ominous whipped cream.
This year,
California skies
filled again with ash-gray smoke.
Viewed from above,
it was a deceptive curtain
that hid the devastation
and heartache
below.
Handle With Care
(Published in Stanislaus Connections, May, 2020)
Earth is losing patience,
becoming imbalanced.
Once even tempered,
she is now subject to extreme mood swings,
prolonged spells of fiery passion,
floods of despair,
weeks of depression and disappointment.
Her mind is muddled, confused;
her eyes stare at a clock only she can see,
her compass no longer points true.
Feeling ignored,
she is raising her voice,
her once gentle whispers intensified to gale-force winds,
all with the same message:
Pay attention to what I am saying!
Listen to your mother!
Dry Reflections
I.
Submerged tree stumps reveal harsh secrets
in Mono, Tenaya and Tahoe lakes;
now just waterlogged remnants,
they once took root in silty lakebeds
when water levels plummeted,
grew in arid climate for hundreds of years,
their history permanently etched in narrow barcodes
of growth which prove the existence of megadroughts –
cautionary tales for twenty-first century Californians
who agonize over lack of rain
for a mere four years
II.
Parched grass crunches underfoot
in Central Valley front yard;
spigot turns, water runs downhill from coiled hose
straight to the mow strip and young Gingko tree,
already a veteran of dry conditions
it gulps eagerly as dust turns to mud.
Street cleaner swishes around the corner,
water sprays on hot asphalt,
permeates the air
with unexpected soothing scent
of imitation rain
III.
We learn from trees
who know how to survive --
to slow growth, take in less water,
strip down to bare essentials,
even shed leaves
in desperation
A retired educator, Nancy Haskett has been writing poetry for many years and has been published in more than 40 publications, including Homestead Review, Iodine Press, Miller’s Pond, Monterey Poetry Review and many others. She has presented her poetry at the Carnegie Arts Center in Turlock, the Modesto City Council chambers, Second Tuesday Readings at the Barkin’ Dog in Modesto, as well as other places. Nancy enjoys reading, traveling, and spending time with her family.
