Category: VT Poetic

First Morning

First Morning

by Kelly (and the Buck) ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
Neringa pond, Kelly Salasin, 2015

a bird and a plane pass overhead
the Jay heading east
the jet streaming west
their flight, miles apart
reflected in the pond
at my feet

the water stilled by the absence of children
except for the silent fish, free to create
ever-expanding circles that remind me that I am here
to pray

with open palms,
pinkies touching,
i recite the once foreign but oddly familiar words that i have accidentally memorized from years of repetition~

Karagre vasate Lakshmi
Kara-madhye Saraswati
Kara-mule sthita Gauri
Prabhate kara-darshanam

funny that it is the English translation that always slips from memory, leaving behind only beginning and ending fragments~

On the tips of my fingers is…
…a vision of energy in my hands.

In between there are Goddesses.
Saraswati is the one devoted to eloquence and learning,
a fine companion to evoke on this first day of school,
as I begin, again, to find the writer, within.

a winter companion

a winter companion

by Kelly (and the Buck) ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
CCI20012015
morning journal entry

When we first moved to Marlboro, in the winter of 2000, just after the baby was born and my mother was taken, it was the birches who soothed me–how they stood together–tall and thin and papery white.

But now I find my heart drawn to a single beech.

She stands out my window, in the east, beside the stone wall, ankle-deep in snow.

Her bark is almost chocolate and her lower branches cling to their leaves, aged to perfection–a tender blush–reminding me of spring.

Forced Poetry

Forced Poetry

by Kelly (and the Buck) ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

It is impossible, is it not, to step out into our landscape,
without receiving or sensing or feeling, or in my case, spontaneously writing…
poetry.

How this soft, silent, sparkling world of fresh snow
with stenciled trails made by tiny paws,
and carved paths, made by larger ones–mine–

In a southernly snow-shoed spiral on the front lawn
just beyond the waves of White tossed
by Jimmy Cloud’s plow late last night

Is now being sprinkled by fairy dust falling
from the blue sky, or is it the Evergreen
boughs shaking

Upon me
as I write
this verse
in my mind.

Marlboro Vigil for Sandy Hook

Marlboro Vigil for Sandy Hook

by Kelly (and the Buck) ♥ 1 Comment
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Community members in front of the Marlboro Post Office

We woke to zero and bundled up better than ever to stand in a circle outside the post office where the green banner hung with the sweet faces of those 20 children and the tender adults who cared for them.

There would be no classroom photos of loved ones this year. Noah would not turn a year older. He would not lose his tooth. The candles of the Menorah would be lit without him.

We came for different reasons and for the same reasons, and we came because…

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Marlboro Meetinghouse

they couldn’t;

because children deserve our protection;

because it’s criminal to let this continue;

because without the collective consciousness, we are without a compass…

Despite the bitter cold, we chose not to step inside the Meetinghouse, but we rang its bells, “28 times,” (as decided) including Adam and his mother, among the names we spoke:

of each child,

each teacher,

the Principal,

the aide,

the substitute,

the therapist,

the psychologist.

We were an aging group–the youngest almost 50, and the rest older still. The young people were at home with the children, doing the work of families; while we stood as their representatives, in witness.

There were 10 of us in all, some strangers, some dear friends, sharing hopes and tears, and ending with a long, group hug.

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Susan & Casey sounding the bell… 28 times.

Saturday, December 13, 2013
Marlboro, Vermont

Susan Kundhardt
Joe Mazur
Jennifer Mazur
Beth McDermet
Marge Wright
Jonathan Morse
Ellen McCulloch-Lovell
Chris Lovell
Casey Deane
Kelly Salasin