Immigrants

A hollow of perfume in the woods so deep
I looked to see if  Venus herself  had come
to swim there, dropping her skirt
of strawberries and irises.

Or if some cluster of immigrant mushrooms
had sailed to the New World on the back of a  log
and became so delirious with joy when they landed
they celebrated by eating their boat,
which they turned into an apricot.

Lupine

“Lupine”-- (from L. lupinus, wolf). A leguminous herb with large, palm-like fronds.  It was called “sad lupine” in the middle ages, because its seeds were a staple of the poor during times of famine, but eaten in large quantity cause poisoning.

June lights the hills
with violet sparks:

self-heal, clover, fireweed, vetch,
and the great showy flares
of the foxglove.

But the solstice is lit by the lupine,
that lifts up its torches of ice and fire
in palms that are elegant and sad.

With its beautiful little lips
that have tasted dirt,
it whispers that the wolf of winter is moving

towards the cave where summer lies, waiting
in a skirt of sun and cherries.

Note : Both of these poems were originally published in Deer Drink the Moon, an anthology of Oregon poetry, published by Ooligan Press, 2007.