Categories
Creativity Poetry

Decoration Enough


red is the color of cardinals
obviously

the underside of bittersweet
in the last days of fall

red is American holly
if the jays have been temperate,

winterberry and spicebush,
the staghorn sumac

it’s the pointed leaf of a maple
red maple, aptly named

and the flash in the splash
of the painted turtle diving

red is the tap tap tap
of the woodpeckers, there

and the robins who
may have stayed too long

red is burning bush
invading the woods,

it’s native wintergreen
and partridge berry

red is abundance
and wild, decoration enough


Think about the following before decorating a public tree: 

  • While plastic ornaments are cheap and easy to obtain, they produce their own set of issues when left outside. Any ornaments that fall off the tree can easily end up in a waterbody and will never degrade in any environmentally friendly manner. The sun will make them brittle, and they can break apart into smaller and smaller pieces. Animals can eat the plastic and even pass it along to their offspring. This can be fatal for them both. 
  • Ornaments made of glass or other breakable materials can shatter and find their way into the landscape. Again, this presents issues for wildlife. It also makes cleanup efforts more difficult and dangerous. No one wants to step on or pick up pieces of thin, broken glass. 
  • All the ornaments, tinsel, garland, and tree skirts you use can quickly end up on the ground where they’re no longer fun and sparkly holiday ornaments. Now they’re in the watershed where they can cause greater problems for our water system. It’s best to leave these on your tree at home. 
  • If it’s not cleaned up promptly, what was once a whimsical holiday embellishment is now a garish eyesore in a matter of a few weeks. If you’ve ever walked past one of these neglected scenes after the holidays, you know how they look. Shiny tinsel is now faded by the sun and left half draped on the ground. The ornaments have mostly fallen off, leaving one or two sad remnants clinging to the tree. It’s an embarrassing scene, one that belies the natural beauty of the area.

Poem ©2024, Jen Payne. Photo by Michał Roba.

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book

Categories
Creativity Poetry

Good Morning Kingfisher


It must be the kingfisher
wakes at eight
surely that is the reason
for his frequent
interruptions
his call overhead
his teasing sweep across the pond

I want to think he knows me
remembers me
even if that’s not the case

he no more knows my face
than the ducks in the pond,
the swan in morning light,
the heron hiding in the marsh

But I sit a while anyway
in a softness of sun and pine
all of us old friends
just starting our day.


LISTEN: Belted Kingfisher (more info)


Poem ©2024, Jen Payne

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book

Categories
Creativity Poetry

Finding Myself Kinda Angry These Days

In the movie,
the woman is sad
and she curls into
the man for comfort
and he wraps his arms
around her
and pulls her close
and I remembered —
briefly —
when you used to
do that for me —
comfort me —
now all you do is
enrage me —
you and your
weak minded
hypocritical
ignorant politics —
and instead of
curling into you
I want to tear off your skin,
and bludgeon you with a stick,
and run over you with my car
at a very high speed,
and I find myself wishing
that instead of loving you
I’d suffocated you
one night with a pillow
and…oh
was that out loud?


Poem ©2024, Jen Payne

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book

Categories
Creativity Poetry

The Bookshop Evangelist

She arrives with a flounce,
a bell-ringer at the door
in a purposeful manner,
and before I even see
the graven image
hung around her neck
I know what I am dealing with,
it’s in her posture —
the parochial way she holds herself
as she quietly tsks tsks tsks
at books on the shelf,
the way she nods
when she finds a kindred spirit
points to one up high on a shelf
“He’s Good,” she says out loud
and I know it’s a capital G,
like her god.
I feel like I should sit up straight
and uncross my legs proper
but my own talismans give me away
before I can adjust myself;
I want to tell her we are all
made with love
but she averts her eyes
and walks right past,
the crucifix seemingly larger
with each breath.


Poem ©2024, Jen Payne

If you like this poem, you’ll love the poems in my new book