shall I sleep or disappear or make myself useful?
the place is emptying out—what will Monday bring, the people will disappear
fog lifting, a few sail boats on the strait, here comes a ship
the woods still, the haunted shells of militarism
for it gathers one's self around one to walk alone in the wood
take a notebook up to the ridge, will the clouds ever relent?
shaking telephone wires, 3 Swallows, a pick-up truck, the leaves on the jaunty branches of trees
(Monday 10:30 a.m.)
highly sensitive, clannish, prone to sickness
close to the beach, sunny southern exposure
crooked, irregular branches, brickred bark
likes to be left alone—can't compete with humans—
shines like polished mahogany in the rain
Linda Russo’s collections of poems include Mirth (Chax Press, 2007) and o going out (Potes & Poets, 1999); more poems have recently appeared in Bird Dog, Damn the Caesars, ecopoetics, Fence, New American Writing, P-Queue, and Tinfish. She currently lives and teaches in the Columbia River Watershed.