Two Poems by Sharon Waller Knutson

 

Mr. Crow

 

Short, squat and solid,

a businessman in black,

he struts across our property

like he just bought it,

 

to the waterfalls

to dunk the bagel

or bangles he stole

from the table, floor

or dumpster

at the sidewalk café.

 

Then he inspects

the seeds – sunflower,

pumpkin, watermelon,

cantaloupe - we discard

and buries them

in the fertile soil.

 

Some sprout into green

vines and plants

that survive until the cows

or wildlife eat them

long after Mr. Crow

flies away to never return.

 

Tis the Season

 

Going outside. Got to get the roof fixed

before the monsoons, my husband says

as I sit at the computer answering emails.

I feel something soft moving

under my bare feet and scramble

on unsteady legs, knee screaming.

 

A two-inch creature crawls towards me.

as I squint through eighty-year-old eyes.

Is it a tarantula, scorpion, or another

desert creature escaping the hot sun?

 

The saw screeches from the sun porch.

I stare out the sliding glass door

as my husband climbs the ladder to the roof.

The creature follows me as hanging

onto the bedpost I head for the shoe

pile next to the nightstand so I can

walk outside and call to him.

 

As I pick up the only shoe that fits

my swollen foot, I turn and a tiny mouse

stares up at me. My heart lurches

and I drop the shoe. Where’s your mother?

I ask the trembling creature at my feet.

 

I find a cup on the nightstand

and place it in front of the mouse

which freezes and stands and stares.

I shut the door and collapse on the couch

until my husband appears. Are you okay?

 

There’s a baby mouse in the bedroom, I say.

We’ve got to find the mother. My husband

opens the door, scoots the mouse into the cup

and as he heads out, says. I just released

a big mouse outside this morning.

 

I glance over at the window to see a lizard

plastered to the glass staring outside

where the baby mouse runs to his mother.

Tis the summer season, I say, laughing.

 

 

 

Sharon Waller Knutson is a retired journalist who lives in Arizona. She has published several poetry books including My Grandmother Smokes Chesterfields (Flutter Press 2014,) What the Clairvoyant Doesn’t Say and Trials & Tribulations of Sports Bob (Kelsay Books 2021) and Survivors, Saints and Sinners (Cyberwit 2022.) Her work has also appeared recently in GAS Poetry, Art and Music, The Rye Whiskey Review, Black Coffee Review, Terror House Review, Trouvaille Review, ONE ART, Mad Swirl, The Drabble, Gleam, Spillwords, Muddy River Review, Verse-Virtual, Your Daily Poem, Red Eft Review and The Five-Two.