(Poem? Song? Novel?)
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So excited
Couldn’t sleep
So like a little girl
On Christmas Eve
Waiting to see Santa
Grabbed the cell phone
And slipped through the
Sliding glass door
Dogs lifting their heads
And returning to sleep
Briefly thought of Max
At 105 pounds
He’d never let me go into
A dark yard adjacent to the swamp
Alone
But my current dogs
Are children of my old age
And don’t demand much
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So I quietly close the door
And there it is
In the darkened light of
The New Moon
Delivered by UPS
Put together by Roomie and me
The perfect 8 x 6 greenhouse
Housing unsheltered plants
From the storms of rain and thunder
Just another hurricane season
In the Lightning Capital of the nation
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The plants were fed fertilizer
After moving them to their new home
But now I bring out the
Important food for the soul
Corn meal
Himalayan pink salt
And the sweet smoke of
Home-grown Sage
I greet and lightly touch
Each gift in its pot
Hello, Three Sisters:
Corn, Beans, and Squash
They nod their heads in the dark
While the Nightshades:
Tomatoes, Peppers, and Potatoes
Sisters to Belladonna
Remind me of their Vitamins A & C
With lots of antioxidants
Loaded with nutrients
And always welcome in my kitchen
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Suddenly a figure appears and I
Recognize the 4-square symbol on her dress:
Mokosh, Slavic Earth Mother
Associated with the destiny of women
Can’t help thinking what a magnet I am
For all the Fates from many cultures
But I welcome her
Mokosh, meaning “moisture”
Perfect because moist earth
Is essential for gardening
As is the earth quickly drying
From flood and torrential rain
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As she fades
I look around at my little structure
Unlike the portals I wander through
In previous descriptions
Like the Bathhouse and Swamp Crossroads
The greenhouse is anchored to the earth
There is no magic portal
Just a rolled-up door
Leading merely to my backyard
The magic is in the food
Growing in my pots
For health and safety
Briefly, though, I contemplate
Naming the greenhouse Esplumoir*
Merlin’s little cabin harboring
Twelve Damsels, oracles of the future
Neighboring Perceval, famous
Holy Grail guardian
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But magic often visits us
If we look and listen
And I see the shadow of a woman
Playing a big old bandura on her lap
And another shadow strumming
The three strings of an unmistakable
Ukrainian-crafted balalaika
And I know
My plants will gladly grow…
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© 2023 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Greenhouse & plants & ukulele
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*From Wikipedia:
The esplumoir is thought to be the place where Merlin, who is fond of transforming himself into a bird, would resume his human form.[3] According to the Didot Perceval it is a cabin or a small house that Merlin built himself near the home of Perceval, guardian of the Grail, to prophesy.[4] It is also imagined as a high tower or a rock, in other texts. In Méraugis de Portlesguez it is described as being atop a high cliff having no doors,windows or stairs; it is inhabited by twelve damsels who can tell the future.[5]