A Poem a Day, Week 15, April 9 to April 15, 2022

  A Poem a Day, Week 15, April 9 to April 15, 2022

Welcome to Sifting the Rubble's weekly blog and podcast of my poem-a-day challenge for 2022.  I am your host, and poet, Emily Gibson.  The poems for the 15th week, April 9 to April 15, mark the beginning of my six-week bicycle tour south on the Pacific Coast, from Bellingham, WA to Santa Barbara, CA.  The poems for this week, and the weeks to come, pull primarily from my observations on nature and life on the road with my partner, Jay. 

Though I could not realistically share or do blog posts while on tour, I kept notes in my paper/pencil journal.  As I pedaled the miles away, I composed poems in my head and jotted notes at rest stops if I found an especially good line I wanted to keep.  It gives me great satisfaction and creative joy to make these poems come to life now, after the tour is over.    Without further ado, here are the seven poems from the first week of the "Headwinds and Headlands" tour!

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And now, for this week's poems!

Listen to Week 15 Poetry Podcast

Poem #99, Why

by Emily Gibson, April 9, 2022

Push through

Reach beyond

Pass blockades

Trees fallen

Fissures cracked

Landslide slidden

Rivers risen

Goals lure

Move towards

Why?  Why?

Won’t know

Without effort

Life calls

Hear WILL

Motivation leads

Replaces despair

Hope springs

Just Ride.

About "Why": In our packing up and readying for 6 weeks on the road, I wrestled with doubts, despite evidence to the contrary that I could handle this trip. After all, I had cancelled this trip last year when diagnosed with MS. The "why" of this poem can refer to why go on tour, or why did I get diagnosed with MS, or why have I fought so hard to be able to ride again. Or it could mean anyone else's why. This poem is for anyone who pushes past obstacles (or finds a way around them). While obstacles provide opportunity for reflection and consideration of "why" they do not always mean "stop."

Poem #100, Cypress Ent

by Emily Gibson, April 10, 2022

A slim cypress sways,

An Ent striding against winds appears,

Beard, hair, sleeves, robe

All flow out behind

Like a wizard faced against a wind,

Wind stalls, all stills.

A great blue heron frozen 

in hunt emerges,

flashes.  When the wind rises

The Cypress Ent strides again.

About "Cypress Ent": Driving from Bend to Bellingham, I saw these enigmatic cypress trees on the side of the road. On our first day riding, I saw more of them. Each looked like a walking entity with the wind and created statues as the wind stilled. With this poem, I tried to capture some of the images these trees and the wind gifted me.

Poem #101  Daffodils

by Emily Gibson, April 11, 2022

Smiles along a road

Rain beading on yellow skin

Faces beam up to the sky

In two-tone jackets,

Nodding in the breeze

In the moment

In the elements

You and I,

Cycling past a ditch of 

Daffodils.

About "Daffodils": Jay and I have bright yellow rain jackets, with black accents. Along the road on this day, and many days that followed, I saw pairs of daffodils, the ones with gold middles and paler yellow outer petals. Like us, they were unperturbed by the rain and kept shining their light. I enjoyed playing with the similarities between us.

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Poem #102, Persevere
by Emily Gibson, April 12, 2022

“Every storm runs out of rain.”  -Maya Angelou

Give it time.

Fierce dogs stop to breathe,
Raindrops evaporate into mist,
Dark tunnels find the light,
A long cold night greets the day,
Cold water becomes tea,
A headwind shifts to a breeze.
Unyielding rock becomes art with the wind,
Raging waters smooth out in flat lands. 
Persevere.

About "Persevere": The Maya Angelou quote came across my inbox, at the same time as we were starting to pedal on this trip. My mind kept thinking on it, and I recognized that a large part of my journey over the last year has been about perseverance and believing that there is a "next" on the horizon. Jay likes to say that bicycle touring is like backpacking: slow and steady. I think most things in life can be handled with that attitude. Just keep pedaling, you'll get to the top to see the view in time!

Poem #103, Skunk Cabbage

by Emily Gibson, April 13, 2022

I see you, 

Altar for beetle conventions,

Symphony hall of ants,

Hiding place for flies at dark,

Meditation retreat of slugs,

Crown jewel of marshy  

Low-land spots,

Beacon in moonlight.

Your massive green leaves

Carpet the land

Too bitter to eat--

Even soaked for weeks,

The toxins won’t leave.

Your yellow scoop “spathe”

Shields heavy pollened “spadix.”

That tell-tale fragrance precedes,

born on breeze to my sneeze.

It is then that this naturalist

knows she is in her homeland.

About "Skunk Cabbage": Sights of the skunk cabbages adorned this first week of riding. Their brilliant yellow flowers brighten the dark, marshy areas they grow in, almost like lamps. With each skunk cabbage I saw or smelled, I knew I was getting closer to home, though it was many miles and weeks further south by bicycle.

Poem #104, 9 Miles from Aberdeen

by Emily Gibson, April 14, 2022

Your bike light reflects

blinking red

off the puddles of this

third day in rain.

Your rear wheel sprays water

from its fender; it lands

just shy of my front wheel

if I keep the distance right.

A sign reads

“9 Miles from Aberdeen,”

like a country western song.

Our halfway point looms,

lures with lunch in mind,

though no idea what we’ll find

in this town.

Lyrics come with a twang,

sung to the rhythm of our wheels:

“I’d follow your tail lights

anywhere, babe,

even through the deluge ahead.”

There’s no end to the dark wall,

clouds and trees reflect in 

wet pavement, 

and 25 miles still spreads ahead.

Yes, we think we’re having fun.

About "9 Miles from Aberdeen": All day, I had been looking at Jay's taillight reflections in puddles, and pacing my distance with his tire's spray. Then the sign announcing the miles to Aberdeen appeared, and both Jay and I thought it made a perfect title for a country western song so we called out lyrics to each other. The previous night, a dear friend commented on my post about riding in the cold rain, "I bet you two think you're having fun!" It all made it into this poem.

Poem #105, Great Blue Heron Day

by Emily Gibson, April 15, 2022

A half-dozen Great Blue Herons,
    each a treasure to find:
The first we saw, still as a statue in a creek, 
    with frozen yellow beak.
Number two startled up from a marsh 
    on gray wings, harsh.
Three was going over a river, silent in flight
    until it disappeared out of sight.
Number four jumped up from grassy terrain, 
    landed, then jumped again.
I loved the fifth. It squawked awkwardly in protest 
    when we stopped pedaling to rest.
Last was the sixth, a curved, swooping V silhouette 
    homeward bound, feet dripping wet.
Such an omen, these solitary birds bode,

for our sixth day on the road.

About "Great Blue Heron Day": For most of my adult life, Great Blue Herons have been a symbolic sighting for me. Typically, they indicate I am on the right track with whatever I am working on. I named the small charter school I started and ran for 6 years "Great Blue Heron Middle School." On previous days of our trip, I had seen one or two. Today was a bumper crop, perhaps to celebrate the last day of our first week on the road.

That concludes Sifting the Rubble's poetry for this week!  I hope you enjoyed this first report from the world of bicycle touring.  Perhaps some of them spoke to you, or maybe you found one begging to be shared with someone else.  Either way, thank you for listening and reading. Hope to see you next week!