MixedMedia on Paper
May 2022 — 30” x 12”
Ruth Ann Howden
WORD SALAD
A salad, best fresh
full of surprises like pickled beet,
crunch of cucumber or celery,
savory dressing, topped with pop of cherry tomato
A poem, best marinated
in considered combinations, yes surprises –
in word and beat and thought
A potluck of idle or busy mind
A compulsion or a meandering discovery —
All of the above, yes
This word salad aspires to
nourish as well as to be enjoyed.
If there is something not to your taste
push it to the side of the plate
and forget it.
I will not be offended.
My own pleasure, in a never perfect product,
will not be lessened.
Breaking Bread
Feeling too large
Taking too much space in this small kitchen
My years of service blatantly displayed
None the less, the daily gatherings around me
Secures my place. After being lovingly washed
And set with cloth and cutlery I hold meal after meal
Setting freshly baked bread in the table’s center -
My ritual gift for those who gather
around Grandmother’s table -
I ask each to say what they are grateful for today
And what they’ve found to bring them a smile
It’s often the same
Only this sturdy oak table could hold so many blessings
Watching the Mountain
Long before I found my treasured spot, molten lava welled up from earth’s core and spilled itself into a mountain
Welling up, flowing down
Ridges sharp, or softly curved, formed on the way back to the sea
Wind and rain accented these forms, earthquakes, landslides, erosion
Welling up, flowing down
Eons of change sculpt the ridges, life’s phenomenal growth clings -
This uneven ground we call home/mountain/mother
Welling up, flowing down
The clouds and mist, rain and humid air, reveal the subtle changes in color and curve
The bright sun blanches detail, highlighting the brute strength of rock, giving us the illusion of permanence, stability - convinced it has always been like this
and will always remain, no matter the destruction we impose with our desire to make all surfaces smooth and safe
While at dawn and dusk, the light, shadows, mist, reveal fragile edges being worn away
Long after all humans are gone, the earth will continue
welling up, flowing down
*********************************
