Summer 2004


Summer 2004

Tamara Jenkinson

There are stories in the bones of fish.
The water within us moved in rhythm with the rain falling.
We are called to be still...
let it ripple in circles away.
We are clear skies reflected in water.
We are dark moss on flooded rocks.
We are the roots of reeds and tadpoles waiting for warmth.
We are hanging from trees and jumping into the warm lake of August…
and again we are water and the moon glitters in our smooth surface and stars.
And we are earth too
Grounding hearts
Newly tilled earth that invites seeds
From flowers blown by fortune.
One stands looking across an estuary
He wants to set upon it in a storm
Another is looking out at snow
His back to a room full of children
Heart of a nomad trapped in a clapboard house.
He takes his boots from the cellar
His hood from the hook
Wraps his neck with wool
Make tracks in the still frozen snow.
He is whispering legends to himself
Muttering tales of brothers
Some have fallen through ice.
We read their stories from the bones of fish
Mindful of sacrifice.

*from a line in the "Kiss of God" by Marshall Stewart Ball

Tamara Jenkinson has published sporadically for 35 years in small local chap books and more recently on-line at Poetry Magazine and Seeker Magazine. She lives with her husband and their two youngest children in remote Northern California and practices rural social work for a living.



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