Through

I can see you through the knothole
Playing behind the fence,
But what a great big world you're missing.
Of the pain and agony of war you do not know,
And the joy of freedom you can only guess.
Your world is the sandbox and the jungle gym,
And your innocence is enviable.

I can see you through the chain link screen,
Playing baseball behind the backstop,
And what a great big outfield before you.
You can be anything you want to be.
Your idols are doctors, lawyers, and policemen.
So you take the pitches as they come,
And your choices are so limitless.

I can see you through the plate glass window,
Playing student in the classroom,
Giving direction to your teenage life.
Decisions to make and deadlines to meet,
And rules to break and friends to greet.
Life leaves you hanging in doubt and hesitation,
And your attitudes are so rebellious.

I can see you through the one-way mirror,
Standing in front of the scale.
Finger-printing and posting bail
Are routines you are not accustomed to.
Who will you dial with your single phone call?
You have decisions to make in hallowed halls,
And your innocence is questionable.

I can see you through the spaces between the iron,
Playing cards behind the bars.
But what a small world you are locked into.
Of the pain and agony of prison you have a clue,
But of the joy of freedom you can only guess.
Your enemies are doctors, lawyers, and policemen,
And your choices are so limited.

I can see you through my tearful eyes
Lying in the open casket,
But what a great big world you left behind.
You could have been anything you wanted to.
So you took the pitches as they came,
And life left you hanging in doubt and hesitation,
And judgment of your innocence is out of our hands.

© Eric R. Eaton, circa 1981

Geometry

Chessboard clearcuts
With power-tower pawns
Protecting
Electric station queen.
Checkmate,
Progress wins again.

Nazca lines
Make no sense
Only cars know their destinations.
Circle fields
Rolling
Along tangent roads.

Bridges
Bisect rivers,
Span lakes.
Dams
Divide streams,
Diverted water is confused.

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1982.

Tropica Botanica

Houseplants grow here
Unexpectedly.
We feel a bit deflated,
Having thought our apartment
Was their natural habitat.
Waterfalls,
Not watering cans,
And squalls,
Not spritzers,
Are what the foliage needs.
Now,
We are in their element,
Their apartment,
And imagine them whispering:
Is this their natural habitat?

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1989

Image of Monstera Plants at Rainbow Falls, Wailuku River State Park, Island of Hawaii, by Jeff Gnass and featured in the Wilderness 1989 Sierra Club Engagement Calendar. It inspired the poem.

Timberline

Hemlock tops
Boughed in prayer
To the Sun God,
To the Snow God.
Winter Water weight gain
Shed with the thaw,
Hemlock heads
Bending like Narcissus
To admire their own beauty.

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1989

Art

The palette knife of Nature
Paints impressionist reflections
In shards of ice.
Mountains merge with sky
On upside down horizon.
Pigments thicker here,
Absent there,
And rough edges everywhere.
Leroy Neiman's landscape,
Stucco patterns in a plaster world.

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1989

Re-Verb

Ram-impact
Rebounds,
Ricochets off
Rock walls,
Riveting the attention of
Ravens

Rattlesnake shakes,
Re-coils,
Re-enters his
Rodent burrow
Resovling to
Return

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1985

Rut

The asymmetry of antlers
Doesn't bother the caribou
At peace with imperfection.
A worn pointer,
A broken rack,
It doesn't matter.
No mirrors to reveal deficiencies,
The girls know no better.

Eric R. Eaton circa 1989

Haiku

Haiku seems to be making a resurgence in literary circles these days, as well as among naturalists (and friends) like Susan J. Tweit, Julie Zickefoose and Abigail Parker. Abby once committed to one haiku a day, and her verses are wonderful.

My most recent attempt to date is this:

Flaming clouds at dusk
Sear the sunset sky to black
Embers glow as stars

A previous attempt yielded something silly, based on watching traffic one morning while waiting for the bus:

Speeding trees go by
Riding in truck flowerbed
Destination home?

I would love for readers of this blog to share their own haiku poems; and also share their secrets for writing regularly in an age that eats your time before you know it is gone. Take care, friends.

Treats

Berries encased in ice,
Frozen delights on a stick
That children lick,
But without synthetic spice

Berries embedded in ice,
Frozen delights on a stick
That birds can't pick,
But other seeds will suffice

Garlands

We decorate
Our Christmas trees
And defend such frivolities
As festive.
But it is no accident
That Yuletide cheer
Falls near winter solstice
Each and every year.
Impatient for Spring
We string the lights
Like flowers bright
To guide us through long winter nights.

Color, color,
We need more color.
Break out the holly
And the evergreens
To spruce up the snowy holiday scenes.
Autumn leaves have all dispersed
And flower blooms
Are still far off.
So why pretend?
Why not admit?
We need Nature all year long
To keep our hearts merry
And our spirits strong.

Eric R. Eaton, circa 1988

Winter Mourn

Life huddles on a winter-dead tree.
Birds feather-fluffed crouch low,
Eyes shut to cold onslaught.
Moss uncombed
Drapes over shoulder limb.
A fungus staircase
Up the bumpy trunk
Provides an avenue
For a meandering snail.

Sudden flight
Cracks cloud, leaves branches
Bouncing in good-bye.
Torn shroud of gray
Re-sews itself.
Lonely twigs lace the sky
And mourn the bird-loss
With heavy dew-tears.

But moss still clings,
Fungus holds fast,
And snail still lingers.

Eric R. Eaton
circa 1981

Masterpiece

Spider silk connects the dots,
The toothy edges
Of an alder leaf,
Gilding the flamboyant colors
Of aging foliage
In a silvery, oval frame
Hung in the fleeting gallery
Of fall.

Eric R. Eaton
circa 1983

Do you like the odd poem here on this blog? Want more? You can read more over at my poetry blog, Verse-atility.

International

Parallel lines
Of paper birches
Fade to plaid
When crossed
With reflections
Of sky and water
In sunset shades
Of red and green,
The Scottish fabric
Of an American grove.

Eric R. Eaton
circa 1988