WMO is a free gathering of writers in Chatham and Lee counties, NC for monthly discussions about craft and business of writing, as well notices of opportunities and literary events in the area. WMO is sponsored by the North Carolina Writers' Network.
Twin Fawns
Two fawns barely old enough
to graze slip inside the white
taped fence from the shelter
of the woods, their spots still
bright, their mother on patrol.
I look away and sigh
at the disorder of
my kitchen—last night’s
pasta with Italian sausage
onions and green peppers
took a lot of pots. I ought
to clean up my mess now.
But these are the first twins
I’ve seen this year, fresh
and glittering, so I look back
only to find them gone.
Any pursuit of wonder
requires obsessive vigilance.
Judith Stanton
From The Deer Diaries
Dog Days
The summer swelters are here.
Days that make me want to burrow
deep into the earth, praying hard
for the wet blessing of a rain drop.
Trees droop their shoulders,
leaves limp as fingers dangling
without purpose.
Nothing sings.
Nothing moves
but the dragonflies gliding
through the thick warm soup
that once was air.
Hard to breathe.
Hard to care.
Caught in the doldrums,
I take baby breaths,
and dream of the quiet chatter of sleet
as it hits a tin roof.
Catherine Bollinger
Voyeurs and Voyagers of Spring
Peeping, poking,
punting green antennae up,
polyhedral periscopes.
They’d turn the world
to carrots’ frothing lace,
squashes’ crawling blossoms.
You hear their chirpy patter
rippling pods, bulbs, earth.
Their accompaniment?
Rejoicing frogs.
You feel them tripping you,
vines trapping in embrace.
The smell as fresh as soft new rain,
all lavender and clean
shot through with yellow-green
tart onions.
From vernal equinox to
summer solstice,
they have sway.
Who’s voyeuring whom?
I should not beg
quantum reciprocation
but do so quantum times.
Yet, after every failure,
I still have hope to hear
the goat-footed balloonMan whistle
Spring’s voyagers to the port of me.
Lynn Veach Sadler
