Five Poems by Cleo Griffith

 

Each Person

 

Each person I know,

have known, will know

is part of me, I take in weight

from each experience,

this is why I bend so low,

a scoliosis of the spirit,

the weight has compressed me,

curved me,

I am a curlicue of happenings,

good and bad, a stone soup,

potpourri in a spiral vase,

would that I could straighten,

a tall brass candlestick for a bright light

to signal others to follow

yet I cannot ask them to step along

this crooked path--

my steps have faltered often

pushed into anxiety,

pulled against propriety,

all the while absorbing.

I resemble one of those bulgy gourds

in the grocery store, curved and hard-shelled.

I have become myself by loving,

and not loving all of you. 

 

 

Root Cause

The root continues

and the new shoots show green

above gray earth,

runners expand their territory,

buds form, expand, blossom,

go to seed without conscious decision,

no calendar or list to check off,

no boss to whom to report “all done”,

just normal response

to regular stimuli.

No displays of independence/argument/dissention

 

What is thought then,

that twists us,

makes of us squabbling siblings,

uncooperative children,

scientists and mystics? 

 

 

Sun-Love

 

You are the one, the solid that keeps me,

the mass that puts my pieces back together each day,

it is you and the knowledge of you that developed

my understanding of everything, and my adoration.

Yes, it’s true, I have a crush on Rain each time he comes,

but he is erratic in his attention, blows hot and cold,

I’d like to be able to count on him, but,

he can be overwhelming at times, while you are always you.

Wind hangs around a lot, spouting this and that,

throws a temper tantrum sometimes,

quite childish in his moods,

with dirty language when he’s riled,

I ignore him when he’s like that,

his shrieks and poundings. You are so quiet.

I’ve flirted with Fog as she ballerinas

across the front lawn in her diaphanous gown,

her twirls and lifts are quite romantic

and I’ve joined her for a step or two

among the rugged almond orchards,

along the gray cement canals.

But you know how shy she is with you,

she’ll never spend much time once you appear.

And you always do.

I’ve given Clouds directions to other landing sites

so they won’t occupy space

so close to me that you and I can’t be together.

Sometimes their mischief is rather mean,

and they lie flat right above, such tiresome attitudes.

There’s not a tree around that doesn’t understand

I don’t need their shelter.

I am yours, all yours, all day,

and while I know at times your travels must

cut my time short, I mourn those shorter days,

but revel that always you are there

my own true, everlasting love.

Accept these wild meanderings

that travel up to you on heartbeats,

send me back a warm kiss. 

 

 

The Cookie-Baker’s Family

 

The cookie-baker’s family came today

with their $5 and $10 boxes,

and I traded my last cash

for a lovely box of fancy.

 

I bought not only pleasures

but their time in conversation,

father and son, wife/mother’s work

presented with pride at

a stranger’s door. Good people.

And I crave more good people

like a drug, can’t get too many,

can’t get enough although my life

is filled with goodness.

 

And I am not alone, all around they are,

up and down my street, in the stores,

on the streets and rivers and skies!

I inhale them, hug them, taste and devour.

I become them.

My last cash

bought me

goodness. a little more. 

 

 

To Begin

(an acrostic)

 

Before you step into the day,

remember what the wise ones say,

each movement needs a place to start,

and every muscle plays its part:

tense, relax, and tense again,

how your body should begin,

each breath a miracle on its way.

Cleo Griffith has been widely published in journals such as Main Street Rag, Straylight, and Westward Quarterly. She has been on the editorial board of Song of the San Joaquin since it began in 2003. She lives with her cats, Amber and Mister, and an assortment of barn swallows, lizards, scrub jays and other creatures in Salida, California among the artist-of-all-kinds-rich environment of the California Central Valley. Her first book The Yellow Dress was published in September, 2025.