Emergency

_Ambulance_.jpg

Look, I know what happened

Here.  It’s summer.  Remember,

How we freeze in winter?  Well,

In summer, it’s too hot.

She collapsed.  She hit her head.

 

She feels light headed, her vision

Drifting like a cloud.  Someone,

The teacher maybe, asks her

A question.  No, she says,

She’s fine.  No, no water,

She says.  Someone helps

Her to sit.  She collapses,

Hits her head.  No, she says,

I’m fine, don’t call my husband.

 

They come, the EMTs, ten

Or a dozen, no one counts

As they beehive around

The still form, taking vitals,

Setting up a stretcher.

Three fire engines wait

Outside the door.  They

Rush her to the hospital.

 

We all wonder what

Happened.

 

C.J. Prince

                ©2018

Soul of the Northwest

BigLeaf maple

 

Big leaf maple,  Acer macrophyllum,

leaves shine sugar coated.

Alive in a hundred shades of green,

I am the Northwest, soul of the planet.

Catch a raindrop.

Tip your chin up.

Drink sky water.

Splash into the lake.

Mystery lies in downward clouds.

Wait for the midnight owl.

C.J. Prince

Copyright 2016

 

The Lord of Words

33219-2-1363130172

 

The Lord of Words

clattered to a halt

in his rickety wagon,

shelves askew, quills and ink,

old type settings, dictionaries

and thesaurus.  Just as I

reached for an ancient

tattered  binding, he urged

his nag forward.

I have been following

his trail ever since.

C.J. Prince

©2016

Attending the Dawn

 

kephera

When did you first listen to the tale of Kephera?

In your grandam’s lap or at the feet of the goddess?

No life exists without the Scarab god Kephera.

Each day he rises from the dung heap of horizon

to ease the solar globe from the clutches of night.

 

My ancestors and I attend the daily ritual

for no dung heap exists in the galactic center

without the skill of earthworms.

We  are dawn’s assistants

to He Who Raises the Sun,

the Keeper of Cycles of Light and Dark.

It is I who attend the daily alignment of stars.

 

When you remember Kephera,

Remember me as one of service

to the greater good.

C.J. Prince

©2016

A Kenning of Bones

 

 

 moon, bay, tree silhouette

She ken his foot-rhythm

but did not turn.

The opal of the night

would reveal him soon enough.

Before stars succumb to Kephera’s gift,

they will stand unwoven,

sink to silent moss.

Throats cannot contain ecstasy.

C.J. Prince

©2016