nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

crows too

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Grim Women

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1.

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the crows burden the trees

gather their iron grits

criticize one another

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they slip through gaps

in the matrix

and are gone

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their wings are bruises

on the afternoon

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their wind is deliberate

and desperate

hardened to the goal

2.

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in black

grim women

watch one-another

hide the key

beneath the doormat

and glide

towards the town

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Published as ‘Grim Women’, Women & Environments International Magazine (WEIM) No 86/87 Spring/Summer, 2011, p 8

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

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Written by jane tims

October 31, 2014 at 7:57 am

October moon

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moon escape

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above the woods

in sunset’s dying

the moon rose -

orange

and terrifying

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caught in the trees

with the night wind’s sighing

drowned in the lake mists -

mystifying

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captured in the yellow

of a barn owl’s eye

escaping on a wild bird’s

flight to the sky

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a pool of light

where the hounds are lying

ghosts on the line

where the shirts are drying

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a silhouette

for a coyote’s cry

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Sunpoke Lake, October 2011

Sunpoke Lake, October 2011

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Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

October 29, 2014 at 7:22 am

Posted in off-planet

Tagged with , , , , ,

campfire

with 4 comments

I love a campfire.  If you visit our property, you would know this because there is a fire pit for every occasion.

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December 26, 2011, ‘watching the fire’, Jane Tims

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We have a stone fireplace, made from big granite cobbles, for serious fires.  We have a chiminea on the back deck, perfect for a quick fire in spring or summer.  And now I have a metal fire pit on the front lawn.

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first fire in my metal fire pit - leaves and wood  wet after yesterday's rain

first fire in my metal fire pit – leaves and wood wet after yesterday’s rain

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Fire is insubstantial yet so powerful.  It can be dangerous but soothing.  When I sit in front of a fire, watching the flames, I feel I am sharing community with every person who has ever tended a campfire.

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a summer campfire during a visit with family and friends

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Copyright 2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

October 27, 2014 at 7:30 am

harvesting colour – Rough Bedstraw

with 4 comments

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Rough Bedstraw

            Gallium asprellum Michx.

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along the sleepy river

green shoreline, plumped and pillowed

rough bedstraw, river trick

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river and shoreline beckon

you to bed down, settle down

get a little shut-eye, tough

stuff bedstraw, mattress thick

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shoreline a bedroom, rough

bedstraw, green mattress, blue sky

bedspread, blue river tick

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orchard along the Saint John River

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Published as ‘Rough Bedstraw, Canadian Stories 17 (99),October/November 2014

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

 

Written by jane tims

October 24, 2014 at 7:01 am

harvesting colour – Sea Lavender

with 2 comments

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Sea Lavender, picked long ago and woven into a wreath

Sea Lavender, picked long ago and woven into a wreath

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Sea Lavender

 

Limonium Nashii Small.

 

1.

 

bunch of lavender, dry

picked at the edge

of the sea

 

2.

 

at high tide, overcome

by salt water, linear

leaves buffeted

as rags, tattered purple papers

echoed in oil-slick

mirrors of foam

 

3.

 

on-shore breeze, stiff

sprays of Sea Lavender

tremble

~

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Published as ‘Sea Lavender’, Canadian Stories 17 (99),October/November 2014

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

 

dry Sea Lavender

dry Sea Lavender


 

 

Written by jane tims

October 22, 2014 at 7:18 am

harvesting colour – drop spin

with 2 comments

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drop spindle

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spin turned maple between

fingers, draft roving to

the texture of cobweb

the wool ravels, the twist

travels the line to the pinch

of thumb and forefinger

fibres teased to almost

breaking, then spun strong

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park and draft, and colour thickens

energy builds, the spindle

muddles air and the twist

travels between hand and whorl

where fibres embrace one

another, fatten the cop

build a kitten-worthy

ball of yarn

~

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Previously published as ‘drop spindle’ Canadian Stories 17 (99),October/November 2014

Copyright  2014  Jane Tims

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Written by jane tims

October 20, 2014 at 7:09 am

crossing the brook

with 10 comments

Of all kinds of waterways, I certainly love a brook the best.

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When I was a child, I spent many summer hours playing in the brook at my mother’s ‘old home place’.  The brook was in a small wooded valley between farms.  The woods around the brook were always cool and shady, especially on a hot summer day.

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Building stone causeways in the brook was one of my favorite pastimes.  I would find flat stones and place them like stepping stones.  Then, once the stones were in place, I would plant them with mosses.

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I haven’t returned to the brook for many years, but I like to think you could still find the grey and green remnants of my causeways at intervals along the brook!

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a brook in south-west New Brunswick with its own stepping stones

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construction of moss and stone

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in the valley between farms

a brook needs crossing

a freshet-proof ford

lattice-work built

of slate, grey stepping

stones, packed and decked with

moss, hydrophilic flourish

~

~

©  Jane Tims  2014

 

Written by jane tims

October 17, 2014 at 3:32 pm

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