Ann Privateer is a poet, artist, and photographer.
Grandma Grandmother's breasts Spill into her arms They collide With my tiny head As she smoothed My hair and caressed My shoulders All at once I felt Protected and unafraid As her hands sent me Off and onto A confident trail.
Heaven Bound Contentment Lives in the church Hides in the hills Thanks the thankless Come home With Thanksgiving All the beautiful days Of lust and gluttony And, “sorry for your loss” When all is done Gone but not forgotten.
The Highway Gets me too Early and busy I did not know Home would Disappear In the future When we were Finished And could relax.
Remembering The jagged cliffs of ice Against a darkening sky Sharp shards defined By the blue porcelain sea Waves parting for the fog To descend and percolate Algae pauses, Nature takes A stand while lizards hold out Another thousand years Wobbling, weighing in While I pause alone in my skiff A row boat near by, trying Not to be transfixed Thinking about survival Pausing, wondering, dreaming.
A Butterfly Parade Butterflies gather their beauty Near a tree, a parade Unfurls, exploding colors That sing to their Metamorphosis And to the beholder’s eye.
Play Ball They huddle in the bleachers Beneath summer’s darkening sky Bold clapping, static excitement Eyes unflinchingly fixed On the familiar dance The honey suckle scoreboard Dances in the wind.
Ann Privateer is a poet, artist, and photographer. She grew up in the Midwest and now resides in Northern California (U.S.).