A s I s

Through my cabin window,
a wing-flash of white,
an iridescent tail.
A Magpie alights
with a bounce!

Glossy-black head,
crown feathers
     stick
        skyward,
            mussed up -
out of place. Only three,
     maybe four.

Couldn't
     tell
         precisely.

Bothersome.

I wonder why those
      so few
          feathers
      catch my eye?

The bird is
      such a gem -
           as
              is.

The cabin's window glass
      mirrors my wizened
           mane with it's
      thin hair.
Strands of white,
      lying mostly smooth.
A persistent few,
      disheveled -
            not
                perfect.
                                                                            NOTES:    Begun while at Denali National Park and
That's it -                                                                                completed the following day. We saw a
      the bird is                                                                         spectacular rainbow on our way to
           me!                                                                             Anchorage.
                                                                                                                       -Clem J. Nagel  8/25/2006
Who, I pray,
      ever looked upon a
           partial rainbow
               and thought -
YUCK!
      What an
           ugly
                 sight.

In a Doldrum

No winds at sea.
Ship's sails
at half-mast,
waiting for a breeze.
Hoping to
set sail
once again.

Flags at half-mast
across countless nations.
Hoping to be safe -
to unfurl
the world's Spirit.


Once again.


Just one week ago, on Friday, November 13th
a horrific attack occurred in Paris, France.

A MISSISSIPPI RIVER ADVENTURE

I live just 1 1/2 blocks from the mighty Mississippi
River - and so wish I could live even closer! What
a majestic creation!

It was summer, and a group of writing friends were
spending a "writing afternoon" at my house. After
a couple hours had passed, I put forth a suggestion
that we all pile into the van and drive over to the nearby
Banfill-Center for the Arts situated on Rice Creek, just
before the small river joins the Mississippi. There, we
could spend some time by the river, find a bench, and
do some writing.

Little did I know that not one of the other four people
in the group had ever been right down by the river!
They told me that they had only viewed it by looking
down from up high on one of the many road turnouts.

No wonder they seemed somewhat apprehensive as
we left the van and began our hike down to the river
bank.

And, there was the river! Right before us!

It cooperated by arranging for a lone Belted Kingfisher
to perch on one of the overhanging branches at the
confluence of the two rivers, and to have a small swarm
of minnows "hang out" right close to the shore. A Pileated
Woodpecker let out a call as it did it's swooping flight off
into the distance.

We totally forgot to find a bench to do our writing. Instead,
we piled back into the van, returned to the back deck, and
continued writing in the safety of a nearby, cultivated
flower garden.

W H A T A T R I P T H A T W A S !

Elizabeth and I have just returned from a four-day
"Poetry and Writing Festival" at Grand Marais on
Lake Superior. The trip north from the Twin Cities
was anything but relaxing . . .  heavy fog the whole
way. As the driver, I clenched the steering wheel 
with eyes glued on the faint road ahead.

We arrived on time and had a fantastic time with
a great group of writers from mainly Wisconsin and
Minnesota. The presenters were most creative!

Lake Superior exceeded our memories with the 
sunsets, sunrises, and the sound of waves.

What follows is an account of an earlier trip around
Lake Superior a few years ago . . .

    And what a trip it was! Last month, Elizabeth
    and I went on a road-trip all around Lake
    Superior. The leaves were at their peak. We had
    no plans as to where to sleep each night. We
    dawdled. We took every side road that went 
    toward the "Big Sea" that we could manage. 
    We just walked the beaches, looked for stones,
    listened to the waves and wind. Met some very
    interesting people in out-of-the-way-cafes.
    Of course, Elizabeth took photos and I wrote
    poetry. 

    The tires on our brand-new car went around 
    one million, three hundred eighty six thousand
    times until we arrived back home. (I figured out
    the number of miles and the circumference of a
    tire and multiplied!)

            Amazing the things that people do
                     with their brains!