Judged by Mary Jo Firth Gillett
Theme: My relationship with nature in my own backyard
First Place: Aline Soules, Danville, CA
Ephemera
A hot, humid night perfect for fireflies. I give my son
a two-quart mason jar with a mesh lid that lets air
flow freely. He and his friends zig-zag around the lawn,
swooping to catch the beetles mid-air.
Even crowded in a jar, these tiny insects punctuate
the night with luciferin shine, seeking a mate as if
they were still in the air, in the grass, flitting
through the trees.
When it’s time to come into the house, my son
stuffs lettuce in the jar, but I explain they want
plant pollen and nectar. Before I can stop him,
he throws in granulated sugar.
I ask him to let the fireflies go, but he insists
on putting the jar on his bedside table in that age-old
desire to capture joy through possession. When he sleeps,
I take the jar, not wanting the fireflies to die, not here,
not now. They have only a couple of months.
Soft steady rain falls as I step outside. This late,
the boys and fireflies have gone. I unscrew the lid.
The beetles rise, twinkle round my head
until I walk into the wet grass where they scatter,
disappear.
Second Place: Vicki Wilke, Clarkston, MI
Abundance
My aging deck creaks,
cradles me through births, deaths,
below nests in the greenery-
hopeful crooks. Sun. Shade.
Today I think of my hair,
once thick, wavy, free,
tucked beside me in a paper sack
against its will.
Birds call in tender song, kindly
like they know what will come
when softness is gathered
in my hand, lifted to the breeze.
I close my eyes, imagine
pale shells, nestlings
warmed in abundance. Sparrows
or perhaps a mourning dove.
Third Place: Mary Merlo, Troy, MI
Flowers, Trees and Honeybees Awaken
Random bouquets of golden daffodils trumpet
emergence of season. Tulips sing spring, purple
and cream crocus cover ground. Dogwoods explode
with buds promising petals of red-stained crosses.
Rioting growth contrasts fall’s rust-colored blanket
spread beneath bare trees about to sprout tiny
leaves. Lacy veils shroud landscape to hide robin,
oriole and blue jay nests ensconced in woodlands.
A rosy-breasted bird streaks like a fleeting image
in slumber’s dream, darts across a wooden deck
where empty terra cotta pots stand ready to welcome
geraniums and spikes. Squirrels dig for stashed acorns.
Light glints off iridescent blue wings of dragonfly
hovering near gardener dozing in chair beneath noonday
sun. Honeybee buzzes near his ear, awakens him.
Refreshed, he resumes tasks to arouse sleeping beauties.
