Before you read my poem below
You can learn more about my unpublished new science fiction novel, Rooms, and my published young adult novelette, Wheatgrass: An Irish Fantasy by clicking on the links below.
Wheatgrass: An Irish Fantasy published and for sale on Amazon.com
Paperback - $3.23
Kindle version - $0.99
Before you read my poem below
You can learn more about my unpublished new science fiction novel, Rooms, and my published young adult novelette, Wheatgrass: An Irish Fantasy by clicking on the links below.
Wheatgrass: An Irish Fantasy published and for sale on Amazon.com
Paperback - $3.23
Kindle version - $0.99
(Baker)
The Tent
Eyelids closed within folds of fabric
Twitch and carefully part
Barely open
Barely seeing
Warm air quilts the skin
As cold surrounds the fabric
Of this down-filled, luxurious cocoon
The tent sits
Holds firm to the earth
Quietly surrounded by saguaro cactus
Cliffrose and desert paintbrush
Milkweed and crucifixion thorn
Solar particles dance
In mathematical precision
In the air
And cause my eyes to blink
And my arms to stretch and escape
Beyond the comfort of home
My hands press the ground
Aiding soul and body
To rise together
With the morning
The cactus wren and Gambel’s quail
Click and scratch a living
Bringing me awake
Sliding my nose and chin and head outside
I’m blinded by the glorious day
Crawling out
As a dog from a hut
On all fours stretching, yawning, rubbing, scratching
Glancing back at the geometric shelter
The thin protector
Like a tortoise
Carried on my back
There and ready to fold into
In the night
With complete simplicity
And connection to the ancients
I scrape the pebbles from my palms
And stand upright
Surveying the landscape
Of the new day
Food urges grumble and move me
To set out nuts and berries and grains
And warm aromatic beans of liquid joy
To sample and devour when ready
Yoga-style on the ground with fingers
Juices running down my chin
A soft sound
Stirs the desert
A wonderful sigh
Spooks the wren
A movement
Ripples the tent
And tempts
Wiping away berry juice and brown aroma
My lips part and smile
Sliding fingers between the folds of fabric
And peering inside the tent
A hand slowly reaches out and caresses me
The other sleepily beckons
To the warmth of skin and fabric
And the familiar touch of joy
Naturally warming the body’s furnace
And igniting the tent
With pleasure
And the soft sighs of love
In the desert air
Copyright © Bob Stegner 2007
Copyright © Bob Stegner 2007
Baker, Adam. Spooky Tent. Digital image. Flickr. N.p., 1 Apr. 2010. Web. 22 Feb. 2014.
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