a photograph by Sonja Bingen
Raven
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Raven is a kicker.
He loves to have fun—
nose dives in the sky,
rides the sixty mile an hour winds,
sliding over the Santa Fe railroad
coming from California
and over highway 40
as the semis roll by.
Raven loves to make someone his joke—
sneaks up on his buddies
and scares them to death.
Smart old cuss too.
I saw him flying
with a pop can in his beak,
heading west toward Gallup.
He’ll do well.
They pay seventy cents a pound.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Flame Dancer
a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter, from the Lake Geneva Winter Festival Ice Sculptures
Filed under Art, Photography
Lobster-Colored Sun of Fire
a love poem to Ethel by Thomas Davis
Like a snowflake in August is my love,
Like an August sun on a winter day,
Like the small thunder of a shining raindrop
Striking on a roof of stone.
O lobster colored sunfire,
How can the heavens be strewn with stars
When the sun has not felt the coolness
Of the gently silvered moon?
I have felt snowflakes in August
And been warmed by an August sun in winter.
I have heard small thunder ringing,
Brought by the drumming of raindrops,
Upon the stone roof of my soul.
O lobster colored sunfire,
Do you not know the differences made by love?
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
Dancer
a pastel by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Art by Ethel Mortenson Davis, Ethel Mortenson Davis
Table
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
1
I was never invited
to the table,
but had to sit outside.
I reached
for another–
whose lap
I crawled on,
whose branches
of trees
reached
out to me
with their arms.
2
Old Mother,
who heals
with the rushing
waters of spring,
the quiet white
of deep winter snows,
with the smell of leaves
breaking down
in the fall
and the bright moonlight
on warm summer nights,
Old Mother reached out to me.
3
I was never invited
to the table,
but had to sit outside,
and there
I found another
who
gathered animal spirits
beside me
on another path
in another world.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
Rain Clouds
a photograph by Ethel Mortenson Davis
Filed under Art, Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography
Gifts
on Ethel’s birthday
Bring to me water
Taken from the well of the moon.
Bring to me bread
Baked into brown, round loaves.
This is my water and bread:
My woman with hands as white as the moon
And eyes as dark as the brown loaves
Bringing me the food and drink of life.
Filed under Poetry, Thomas Davis
fourwindowspress 