Jennifer Lagier- Three Poems & Photos

Cambria Pines

The trees are whispering,

murmur intimations of rising wind,

cicada symphonies,

drippy incursions of fog.

Ground squirrels patrol parched terrain,

as hikers approach, whistle, sound the alarm.

Jays curse from dusty oaks,

pursue one another into yellowing boughs.

Dry forest creaks, dances in the breeze.

Needles spill from stressed, rusty pines.

Red-headed woodpeckers drill dying limbs,

dismantle diseased wood, fallen logs.

Sweet Water Springs

Fog lifts from wetlands, wraps itself

like a lavender scarf around Morro Rock.

Lanky egrets wade through shallow lagoon

escorted by a flotilla of mud-colored ducks.

Drought has diminished both sweet water ponds.

There are no turtles, tadpoles, or golden-eyed frogs.

Stressed pickleweed fringes estuary waterways.

A single wild radish blooms beneath coyote bush.

Small birds flit among silver eucalyptus, lift the heart,

fill uncertain morning with bright, promising songs.

Poison Oak Path

A spooked doe bounces over fallen logs,

vanishes into scarlet blear of thick poison oak.

Sunrise pulses mysteriously behind drifting mist.

I follow a thin deer trail that loops between pines and sea.

From gold ridgetop, I see rattlesnake grass thickets,

hear the suck and sluice of invisible waves.

Something clatters among dry seed pods, shattered cones,

morphs to brash stellar jay as waking squirrels stir.

Blackbirds and bunnies make themselves known.

Unwritten adventure hides behind foggy scrim.