Poems of April, 2021, by Marina Richie
Spring Laundry
Strung pine to pine tree
Clothesline sways in colors
Blue-checked shirt and floral skirt
Pinned for the wind to iron,
the air to freshen, the damp to dry
My mother’s hands taught these hands
Shake out those stiff denim jeans
Give them a snap! Lift and affix
folding over at pockets
Pulling the legs straight
Longing for her fingers to meet mine
as we pluck wooden clothespins
from a cotton bag. Never too many.
Why three pins, when two will do?
Ways of making with less
Where once a necessity, now a choice.
Dryers spinning and costing
while the wind is free.
How did a childhood task become
a forbidden practice?
Friends who lived within strict
covenants to prevent unsightly bras,
nighties and panties swinging in view,
Instead draped their clothes over bushes
Over railings, delighting in the loophole
My mother’s hands are guiding me still
Have I touched my son’s too?
Folding the breeze-dried clothes
Enfolding within kinglet and siskin song
Calling us to simpler ways
String your own line tree to tree
Sleep on sheets scented in first blooms
Imagine if all our hands could touch
across fences neighbor to neighbor
Airing our laundry and laughing!
Death of an Elder
When high winds felled
centuries-old ponderosa
Earth tremored
in welcome
Glinting needles once
grazed sky, now shower
Forest floor, gentling
broken places
Goodwill Man
Rough hands. Heavyset.
Your face weary and worn
around the mask
My soft hands bundle up
sleeping bag and duffel
scuffed from so much wear
Tells me he can see
my smile hidden
under the mask
“That means a lot”
he says. Our eyes meet
as I load up his canvas cart
Feel the exchange
His warmth and mine
Six-feet-apart
In Covid time
We are learning where
kindness resides
Flying Dream
I do not remember
Launching into the air
Wings flapping
Floating high
Only this gliding
Above a meander of
River winding
Far below
Eagle soaring. Shadow
Crossing the gentle
Wide valley
At dusk
Then, dizzied
By a drop off
As if the river had
Fallen off a cliff
So far down
Scared by vertigo
No choice but to
Trust in feathers
Day dimming
River lighting
Heart beating
Relinquishing fear
How does one keep
A flying dream
Safe in the daylight of
Spring Equinox?
Walking (after reading Stanley Kunitz, “The Layers”)
I have walked on many trails
Feet trained to know loose
sands of high desert
Slipping back with every step
Time receding away
Roots plunge deep, water scarce
Sagebrush and juniper
Teaching feet to thrive
On barest necessity
I have walked on many trails
Needled and latticed.
Springy silence underfoot
Padding along bear sniffing for
sun-ripe huckleberries
Moss luminesces trickling brook
Cedar, spruce and Calypso orchid
Misting rain softens bewildering
dance of profusion
Along trails I have come to know
Flock of finch. Slide of snake.
The way mountains tumble
Fault, crack, and split
this heart asunder
even as I keep
on walking
All I Have
This body is all I have
Aching muscles
Keep strengthening
For all I want
Backpack, running,
Cycling in wind
This mind is all I have
So much forgetfulness
Keep sharpening
For all I want
Perceiving, recalling
All that matters most
This spirit is all I have
Continue seeking
Keep practicing
For all I want
Centering, Loving
Clasping this life
Calling Rain
Tousling tumbling tree-topping
Dry wind sears and slices
Tethering taunting tessellating
Who will quench dusty despair?
Pleading praying pretending
Set this climate clock back
Reversing remembering relaying
Frayed message in a bottle
Opening opining ordering
Listening learning levitating
Finding bird wings finally
Weightless wiser wilder
Dreaming away drifting drought
Rain romp. Cloud call. Raven rift. At last
Droplets dappling. Drizzle dampening.
Streaming tears on sleeping seeds
California Quail
Day’s end flustered wings
Covey whorls up to roost
Settles in spruce coos and clucks
Plumed heads tucked on plump breasts
Sleeping communion
I Jump Up
I jump up when I see
the rarity of a white-headed woodpecker
scaling a ponderosa pine tree
So it is when spring bewilders
New arrivals on windy whirlers
Leafing and blossoming, a courting spree
Inviting every new breath taker
I jump up when I hear
tinkling notes of white-crowned sparrow
stripping away all veneer
Bessie Butte
Cold snap
Wind flap
Collar gap
Bessie Butte hike
Sky strike
Breath bright
Dog bound
Dawn surround
Moon round
Wind bright
Cascade light
Everything right
Kingfisher Journey- Marina Richie 
Once again you have struck a chord in my memory. I always took pleasure in hanging the family laundry. Each piece hung just so. The crisp fragrance of sun baked linens, the stiff legged Levi’s and my appreciation of the wind’s gentle work were all brought to mind by your lovely poem. I still use the free energy afforded by time and evaporation, but now must hang it inside because of the HOA restraints of my current abode.
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“Sun-baked”– I feel like we should write a collective poem–all of us who know this joy of hanging family laundry. I think that everywhere HOAs need to be revisited–as we know, running dryers instead of hanging laundry is costly to this precious earth that so needs us to reduce our consumption. And of course you hang your laundry inside too. And you do so much more…tips from Gail on re-using little pieces of soap…and more!
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Thank you, Marina, for the sights, sounds, smells, and textures of this life. Wind-kissed laundry is indelibly linked with my mom as well. Airing our laundry–yes, indeed, we’d all benefit from letting the cool morning breeze work its magic, inside and out. I love the photo of your laundry, and the bird box with the license-plate roof. Those birds get such a symphony in a rainstorm!
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oooh. Wind-kissed. I think that should be in the poem…ah…our moms…the things they taught us well. Thank you.
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I am with you on the laundry. I have not used a dryer much in years. Why get solar panels and then waste energy with a dryer? I cannot put it as beautifully as you did in your poem. So, thank you!
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I am with you on the laundry. I have not used a dryer much for years. Why put up solar panels and then waste energy on dyers? You say it so much more beautifully, though, in your poem. So, thank you!
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Exactly! Thank you
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Ah, Marina ~ more love for the earth with your delicious poems and photos.
A favorite line:
“gentling
broken places” If we would all do that from time to time.
Thank you! And happy National Poetry Month. You’ve done it proud. xoA
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Thank you Annis
So glad that line resonated
And just think how our world might heal…
Happy national poetry month to you
And your poems that are so true and strong and lovely
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What a wonderful collection, Marina. I also liked your piece about drying laundry outside. We have been doing it for decades. No HOAs where we live, thankfully! I liked the line with kinglets and siskins. Precious little songsters.
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Thank you ! I’m glad the kinglets and siskins resonated too. Feeling kinship with all who hang laundry and eschew the dryer.
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Time to go walking and find what makes me jump up 🙂
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Thank you dear Marina for this gift of poetry. I feel wistful while reading “laundry.” Longing for those days gone by of hanging laundry with my mother and then falling asleep in fresh windswept sheets. As a mother I introduced my daughter to the beauty of hanging laundry outside – we would run back and forth through the sheets – laughing and often pulling the sheets down, wrapping them around our bodies, pretending we were ghosts. And sometimes the laundry would stay up for an extra day and act as curtains for a new play or dance routine created by all the neighborhood girls. I long for a place to hang my laundry now. Living in a townhouse community the rules prohibit airing your laundry- dirty or clean . One day I will leave in a home again where I can air my laundry as I wish.
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Playful and delightful image of you and your daughter playing among the drying sheets. Thank you. I do think we need a movement to return hanging laundry as a right! See this: https://www.greenamerica.org/green-living/ditch-your-dryer
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You just proved it *is* April again, thank you Marina! James
On Sun, Apr 18, 2021 at 8:40 PM Kingfisher Journey- Marina Richie wrote:
> Marina Richie posted: ” Poems of April, 2021, by Marina Richie Spring > Laundry Strung pine to pine treeClothesline sways in colorsBlue-checked > shirt and floral skirtPinned for the wind to iron,the air to freshen, the > damp to dry My mother’s hands taught these handsShake” >
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Absolutely charming. Thank you 😊
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