Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Waiting ~~ anna hood ~~

Four o'clock: nearly dark
night in the afternoon.
Winter darkness.
The dogs whine for one last run.
I get my jacket.
In the field beside the house
mouse trails scribble back and forth
across pale blonde grass.
Hundreds of crows returning home
to Victoria Park blacken the sky.
They are either hated or loved
no neutral.
I like 'em.

The dogs three little terriers
two sleek, one fat and hairy
put up a raft of black ducks.
We pause for a second on the dock
these dogs and I
watch the ducks, watch
the sea slide her slick skin
over the rocks, sighing as she retreats.
I sit in the splintery
paint-peeling Adirondack chair
under the old floor lamp I've hauled
down from the house.
The corona of pink silk shade trembles
her fringes.

It's a fire hazard, I know.
Extension cords linked
together like words
in a poem, snake their way
across the yard, over the dandelions
and crab grass and creeping charlie
that we call a lawn
their joints bristling with electicity.
Sometimes there are sparks.

The dogs race up and down
the silvery boards. I sit
in the pale pink light
and wait for winter.

It always comes.

14 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Has winter or walking the dogs ever been portrayed so elegantly I wonder! I'm almost shivering just readin it!

9:19 AM  
Blogger jason evans said...

I'm awestruck.

So vivid and unique. That is greatest quality of writing, I think. To be able to write a scene which no one else on Earth could write and have it be fresh and layered and boundless.

You must write novels, Anna. You must.

9:42 AM  
Blogger Roberta said...

I want to sit in that peeling chair, under that lamp, smell the sea and read your poetry.

I will also run the dogs if I can bring mine.

Anna you make extrodinary, the ordinary with your tilt on life.

You, my dear friend, are my favorite poet.

3:53 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

This is one of your harder more difficult poems, Anna.
I told another blogger friend, Rockdog recently when he wrote about a pet duckling, that duckling stories made for my favourite picture books.
And here they're mentioned again.

What can I say, Anna?
Your poems feed my soul like a lifeblood. If the walls ever cave in on me, this is the poetry I'd like to read to get me back on track.

love

6:22 PM  
Blogger Saaleha said...

Someday you'll have a poetry collection to your name. And I shall demand an autographed copy. This one was stunning!

10:56 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Oh man, just stunning! Those images, those scribbly mouse trails, that sliding sea... Brilliant stuff, as always, Anna.

3:14 AM  
Blogger Bernita said...

I am the other that walks beside you.
Anna, you make me feel a ghost at your side. Remembering.

6:53 AM  
Blogger anna said...

You guys have boggled my mind.
I can only say thank you so very much. Each one of you is so tremendously talented, I am so flattered you take the time to read my scribbles.

Lehane you rock! each and every day your writing fills me with envy.

Jason you're such a good writer and such an inspiration to writers
and my god you can build a log cabin... and take photos!

Roberta, you warm my heart. Bring the dawg - I'll drag down another rickety old chair.

Susan, if there is a sweeter nicer person around I've yet to see her.
I send you visions of ducks, in yellow raincoats.

Saaleha, I think you're an old soul - you must be to have such a keen writer's eye. I am so entranced with your Rajaa story.

Nicky, you have such a sharp wit. Many is the morning when Atyllah has me laughing like a human fool.
Down with all Draconians!! Down!

Bernita you're an inspiration
to so many writers! every day your column is filled with a wealth of information. I know each one of us appreciates you!
(you've got me bawling with your comment)

Thanks a million guys. I am bowled over and for the life of me I can't figure our why this little poem is anything
out of the ordinary

10:27 AM  
Blogger EA Monroe said...

Hi Anna. I thought I'd drop in and return the Hiya. Your poem's out of the ordinary because it grabs us and puts us right there with you, seeing, feeling, hearing what you're experiencing. I love that!

5:00 PM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

Hi Anna,
Your poem on ducks for some strange reason, shot back a childhood memory of a little picture book I had of a duckling who had lost it's mummy.
It cost just a nickel to buy that picture book from the book salesman who came to our school to sell all kinds of delights.
I remember him in conversation with me, I was entranced by that picture book and he had picked it up. Later, I carried it everywhere giving my parents a major headache. Yes, even to the bathroom.
hugs

5:14 PM  
Blogger anna said...

well hiya again ms monroe, so nice to see you. And thanks for the lovely comment.
Susan, it's funny some of the stuff that stick with us isn't it
for me it is sock monkeys!

7:09 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hmmmm...have you ever considered writing a poem about narcotic induced buggery committed by brainwashed students in the 22nd century? ;) Whoops, sorry, didn't put anyone off their food again, did I?!

7:40 AM  
Blogger anna said...

lehane you need to be spanked!
You always make me laugh even when
your 'people' are getting their hearts eaten (g)
I have to get over and see what you've been up to today

8:45 AM  
Blogger Susan Abraham said...

Yes, spank him, Anna.
tee-hee!

7:56 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home