I Hate Dust

It is easier to complain about dust than cancer

It is easier to see

And easier to remove.

I can be angry about the dust.

I can wipe it clean and it is gone.

The dust will not ravage a body

Like cancer can.

I can tell if the dust has returned

Before I know about the cancer.

Both are silent things

One floats through the air,

The other slides through the blood stream.

Both alight somewhere

And start to accumulate,

Clogging up the works

Making the house unclean.

Just a little lemon oil and a dust rag are all I need

to remove the dust, but,

I wonder how chemo smells

And if everything glows and sparkles inside

When it is through.

I hate dust.

~Kathie Adams Brown (4-19-12)

An Early Spring Walk in the Evening

Shawsheen River 4-7-2012

It is a peaceful occupation to walk

In the woods by the small pond

As the sun sinks low

And red-winged blackbirds call,

And Grackles whistle and click,

While wood ducks float lazily preening,

And all the world is hushed

With the clear blue sky an empty vault

Above the greening grass

As the lazy river glides by quietly

From lack of rain

And robins serenade the evening twilight

And bid good-bye to this day.

~Kathie Adams Brown (March 27, 2012)

There Are the Dead

 There are the dead

Standing in the bog

While a flicker laughs behind me

At the slowly creeping green,

The first sign of spring

Here among the dead.

Geese are busy nest building,

The wood ducks paddle

between silver stumps,

and tall snags

like up-ended bones,

stark, bare, and beautiful,

engraved by wind,

carved by bird beaks

with nest holes that now provide homes,

these silver arms reach to a springtime sky

blue as a robin’s egg,

strong arms that serve as perches

for the kingfisher and his mate

laughing their rattling call,

 a sound like dry bones,

while tree swallows glide by

on metallic blue wings,

building nests filled with life

among the dead.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 3, 2012)