Giselle Maya
Peregrinations
step by step
on resting land
traversing fallow fields
then back home
through rustling grasses
Time, this winter by the open fire,
legs stretched long as Beorn’s wooden hall,
time to add an oak log, stoke the fire.
I hear the bell ring at midnight.
Once before a time,
I recall eagles carrying twelve dwarves,
a wizard, and a halfling on their shoulders
to their high eyries.
An elf I may be,
untouched by commotions esteemed by Bilbo
to resemble a mushroom being transferred
“from the frying pan into the fire.”
At the peak of a gnarled pine,
Gandalf is blowing rainbow smoke rings.
I listen to our cat door open and close,
tiger Tora leaps indoors out of freezing stone streets
to warm his ears and paws
by the blue flames of the hearth.
Some mornings now are white with frost.
This year has become a Tiger year (every twelve years).
A clan of foraging boars
has come to dig circles around the roots of
the kaki, plum, and pear trees,
even the wide-armed rosiers are not exempt.
The mountain wears a snow bonnet;
not a cat is out now in
the chill cobbled streets.
fawn-tinted chestnut
oak and poplar leaves rustle
to earth
moss closes its green stars
it's starting to snow
About the Author
Giselle Maya has lived in Provence, France for 27 years. Her cicada chant was published by Red Moon Press. She enjoys collaborating with Patricia Prime and together they co-authored Shizuka, published by Alba Press in the UK.
This has been a long chilly winter full of ice winds, warmed by daily fires with found kindling and wood cut on my own land – cherry and apple logs, some linden wood;
the wild boars came to dig & roll in mud, wallowing in hollows – at times they helped us air the soil around fruit trees: pear trees, a kaki tree, tilling the reddish earth where we may plant potatoes in early spring. A soft pruning of fruit trees and rose bushes, chi gong on the land facing the long leopard chain of the Luberon mountains, a small picnic, covering plants like dahlias, peonies even snow peas with white ‘voile d’hivernage’ (a protective plant covering) when frost is announced. Luckily spring water was running all winter long; a pleasant time of reading “the Dalai Lama’s Cat” by David Michie – 4 volumes, cooking potages (thick creamy soups) and rice dishes writing a few letters, exchanging poems via snail mail, talking to my tiger cat Tora and two foundlings Shiki the poet and Mariko, the purring lady of shiny fur.
Now there a visible signs of spring: Narcissus, violets, dandelions to steam for salads, even wild asparagus and watercress in the creek. A sky full of wayfaring clouds. My red moon press published book “Cicada Chant” has meanwhile almost sold out. I write with several poets, so enjoyable to exchange and write tanka prose and sequences . . . Happy Easter to you all!
and now June summer
comes early with scorching heat
yet the spring still continues
to fill the stone basin
and two water lilies bloom
giselle maya