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Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen

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Books
· The Ravyn: Riding the Cyclone by Jennifer Sloan

· Poetry Pages: A Collection of Voices From Around the World Volume II

· Poetry Pages: A Collection of Voices From Around the World


Short Stories
· Flash Fiction: Bookmarked

· FF: Fake

· Flash Fiction: Crystal

· Flash Fiction: I Miss...


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· Hanley (Doc) Harding

· 5th IFLAC PAVE PEACE Impressions, LA, 2005

· Conceptual Godhood


Poetry
· Romance Scammed: Comfort

· Crazily Blue

· Baby New Beautiful Year

· Word Worth

· Restful Desert

· All Hallows’ Eve

· Alone

· In a Poet's Eyes

· Losing the Age War

· My Kathy-Love

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Winter and Spring or: ‘I’m not on your level!’

by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen — Read all 1,670 poems by Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen

Sunday, March 8, 2009

I had the opportunity to drive to
Different areas of Arizona in the last
Ten days. Where I live is elevated to 4080’,
Where I visited ranged between two desert
Lowlands, Tucson and Phoenix , and a
Mountain highland, Flagstaff. Where I live
Mulberry catkins are about to be dropped, daffodils
And Iris are blooming aloft, rosemary repeats
Its purple life, and tiny leaves are replacing
Delicate fruit tree flowers. The winds of wings
Are picking up, as usual, maybe to blow
Winter’s debris away, sun shifts its
Degrees of light, days are coolishwarm,
Nights are cold. Robins have passed,
Doves are flocking, and fighting.

Where we were, nighttime temps
Were below freezing when we arrived,
Past 10:00 at night, sensitive skin shivered
In distress of mind and matter. Early dawn
Brought a smatter of clumped snow flakes,
Windy decisions and a campus ‘Discovery’.

Where we were was as familiar as death,
My mother’s, grandfather’s and my
Grandmother’s, tidily neat. Square,
Beyond my control, back to me.

Where we were was hot, sweaty hot,
Bougainvillea gorgeoused Interstate
Avenues, full-bloomed and flaming
In sun’s last light, also beyond my control.

Where we came from, daytime temps
Rose, far past when we left about
Ten, in the morning, jacketed skin
Was warmed by folds of time moving
Past distress of matter’s path and
Minds smattering of cosmos. Windy
Weather rumples feathers.

I screwed past opportunities,
To fly to different harbors of place,
In past ten thousands ways. Elevation
Isn’t everything, the passing is, as it is.
I’ve been stated as myself, or my experience,
Or my thought, high or low, I stay the same.
Any catkin catches my eye, any quickness
Thrills. Its not a scenario of what I see,
Its what I see as me. Colors, of course.
Lines and strictures? Yes. Movement,
Always a good one, never stops. The
Winds are packing up reality as a fluff
Of baggage, shifting sun to Autumns
Delight, degreed by colleges, or collages,
Or tears of nights. Doves are pairing,
Except those who are not.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 3/9/09
 

 

 

 

 

 

 



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Reviewed by John Flanagan
Reviewed on March 9, 2009
Erin,
What's so impressive is how the poem starts almost casually, a few 'facts' thrown about and then the intensity comes, the interpretations, readings, reactions, feelings culminating in that wonderful final stanza. A delight!
John

Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
Reviewed on March 9, 2009
Almost akin to the difference between night and day, so amazing...

Be always safe,
Karen

Reviewed on March 8, 2009
I love the imagery in these lines, the thoughts, behind them - well done, Erin.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.

I'd so love to live in Arizona ...


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