Advent

Advent

                            *           ^             ^             ^              ^             *       

                                 a                  d                   v             e                n                   t

                               ##                 ##                $$           $$             ##              %%

That son drove miles home from college, as our advent returns.

Three on the tree, rust in cab, all weather tires drives us places.

Traditions change, first I'm not hosting holiday, bringing dishes.

The anticipation stirs a joyful; there's no Pinterest recipe for this.

To go ahead, look back, mountain lion mauled deer on the stones.

Thyme, sage, and basil  - smoke fills house - cause bees distress.
Table places set. No soot, no charcoal, no fire spark on wind pants.
Thanksgiving with other family moves away from  dis-functions. 

Talented sibling says: liar!  Where truck keys?  Escape bell rings.

 Through divorce struggle, insurance more than college payments.
Take off in open gown when radiologist sighs  before surgeries.

Tap clean windows for seashell echo of newsprint vinegar seas.

Tail of raven twitches on doe carcass, he knows where cabin lies.

Turn on mud flood road, skate to sanctuary for rare butterflies. 

Talents to ignore with silence, never show for its not anxieties.

Take lover who treats your core as not as chosen, not pretties.
To return after prison spell, dig up clover seeds in coffee cans.
Though means well, confess sins, forgot to cover mouse traps.
Those excuses...

Today start over, walk those open hearts.
These hands ready, Mailed blankets to Fort Yates.
Time to listen, hope and be kinder begins.
Thus prepare the robbed, shunned, and lonely for festivities. 

The list ahead is full of jobs, jot notes in the phone to pages.
The King comes.

Advent Poem
Copyright Caroline Gerardo November 27, 2016
Photograph I took at Flannery O'Conner's home

Nighthawk Rodeo

Nighthawk Rodeo 

Talk negative multiplies 

ranch dogs escape midnight

Talk negative multiplies

moon works to break clouds 

Jefferson, a male, creates holes

 bull with a rope at his privates

 time for a party say the puppies

 escape artists have no worries

 boy's 12 gauge fire crackers

boots on for two step dances.

Talk negative multiplies

free ticket watch for coyote

Talk negative multiplies

jerky treats, not our dogs 

 I'm a Mom with kindness

come chase nighthawks

flashlights on hooting owls

no worry muddy pajamas

brave thunder silly hats

share joy seeps in souls.

Nighthawk Rodeo Poem

copyright Caroline Gerardo

November 20. 2016

Un-Named

Un-Named

Name Steve Poem

Ash
struggles,
I doctored in
 heat of summer.

Deep soak nights,
mound compost
wide as canopy

pray Santa
Ana storm
don't strip
last leaves.

Saint Ann, mother of Mary, hinted in the Qur'an, unnamed in the New Testament. 

Devil winds wake Grandmother. Tree lost everything. Naked stands fifty feet offering

branch for Screech Owl Nanna to wait. Nanna perches in the rung near my window. 

Frame cracked open, her call wakens. That song welcomes. Less work for me.

The owl box dropped from a brittle branch. Please help me carry it up the

 lodge pole pine shading the chicken coop.

Wooden box weighs sixty pounds,

 hung in the ash tree,
 falling into sea, 

fear stops me
fixing this
project alone. 

Mistletoe lasts,
enormous tear drop 

on bald charcoal lines.

Up on the extended ladder 

it becomes Christmas decoration. 

Recall the  glitter ball from 2014?

This ornament with one use life.

Nature unsaved in plastic for a year.

Tissue paper doesn't protect the past.

A
Silkie
chicken is
in
"hospital." 

Name Steve (her name,
hid in a box for bought for office move) struggles.

Inspiration from cardboard printed with name______   location______.

Brown crepe wrapped Steve's belongings. Name Steve treated unjustly.

go sans
feathers. 

Boost diet
 protein grow

- she screams
for siblings. 

Daughter
cuddles
appeasing
loneliness.

Fall
birds play:
woodpecker, 

crowds of jays, 

Costa hummingbirds. 

Rhythms of needs simple. 

Insurance, payments for college

and snow tires do not worry them. 

Care for young, find seeds and water. 

Fear arrives and flies in the hot breeze. 

Wheelbarrow chips in the cool morning. 

Maybe go to Rancho Santa Ana Gardens,

hike the Morgan Trail, or finish paintings?

Days soar
by,gain
speed.

Caroline Gerardo Copyright November 12 2016

Name Steve Poem

Forgot

Halloween on a weekend

Max votes for change! 

Last Saturday of October,

Rocktober, we prefer.

Max

Forgot

Disengage. 

Turn off news.

Camp Pendleton range live ammo 

burns south of the ranch.

Beat alarm,

hike to greet sunrise 

at Mount Mine.

Forgot phone.

Forgot notebook.

Story ideas finish 

dry poem editing.

Liquid words flow unwritten.

Jupiter touches moon with curtains closed.

 Storm clouds hold sky captive.

Good omen Cleveland sage, not for writing.

Back in the cabin: idea headaches.

Did I drink box wine firmament?

Sulfide stuffy brain forgot the stanzas.

Jupiter did you take dictation?

Black coffee tastes of campfire perfume.

Forgot.

Keep writing, prickles return.

Caroline Gerardo Copyright October 29 2016

Images: windows in San Juan Bautista, burned field outskirts of

Creston, CA, The bean with my son video. 

San Juan Midwife

Crucifix belonged to Polonia Montanez

San Juan Capistrano Midwife

The blister on her left hand bleeds on the slath. Rods and weavers form the crucifix constructed from willow and native grass. Doña Polonia Guiterrez Montanez (Canedo and Simard) waits for labor of the girl on the cot to hasten. Doña puts the cross in progress on the night table.

"I'm adding oak to the stove outside, I'll be right back."

"Hurry before the next pain comes, or I will die." 

"He watches over us, pray to his mother Mary."

Doña trims sprigs of black and blue cohosh from hemp string bunches of herbs. Flowers and leaves smash in a mortar. Herbs turn to malachite green mush. Then she carries the ball of moss to the fire outside. Add a log, and place the herbs into a iron pot hanging over the fire. Water bubbles over the iron. It spits as the tincture dunks. Aroma of smoking sage fills the air. Doña allows the medicine to steep. She returns to the girl.

Inside the girl's legs prop on the hammock. In the darkness her limbs are the color of roasted chestnut.

"Sit forward, I'll massage your back."

As the girl  leans forward, Doña times stimulation of energy pathways with the return of the spasms. Doña hums. Her hands sand the sharpness of pain.

She sings the responsorial psalm, "Cuenten las Maravillas del Señor."

The girl screams.

"Don't waste energy. Let me see if it's time to push."

The midwife pulls up the girl's gown. She holds the legs wide. The opening is the size of a silver dollar.

"Next contraction we push. Breathe now."

The girl inhales with a whistling sound  through the gap in her front teeth. Doña brings the clean towels closer. She mops the brow of the Indian girl.

"Will the Padre take my baby?" Tears are in her eyes.

"No. We know what the soldier did." 

The wave of contraction returns. Doña props the girl upright to use gravity. 

"Make long good pushes. Don't yell or speak. Bear down."

The girl's face reddens. She grunts.

"A breath. Now push more. Almost."

The girl leans back. She rests. In a minute the urge to push out the pain returns. The girl lifts up. With Doña's coaching, the head comes out from the womb. Doña holds the neck of the baby as the girl relaxes before the next contraction. Cramps return with force to push the shoulders, and a wet child is born. Doña cleans the infant's mouth and eyes. 

The girl, a child herself reaches out  to hold the infant. Doña places the cooing baby on her chest.

"Let me put your son in a clean blanket. Let us pray in thanksgiving for a healthy child."

As the two rest, Doña finishes creating the straw and willow crucifix. She hangs Christ upon the wall above and blesses herself.

(The cross remains in her humble house in Old Towne San Juan.)

Caroline Gerardo

copyright August 20, 2016

Polonia was one of a few midwives at the San Juan Capistrano Mission. It is said she created rain from prayer during the drought. Oh how we could find such a talent today.  She taught the native children at the mission. This woman out lived four husbands (Simard - the last was a Medical Doctor who lived to the age of 103) She practiced healing arts with native herbs. If you have any artifacts or information about her family the Heritage Society, and myself would be proud to record more facts.

Joy Arises

Joy Arises

Recite rosary daily.
Sleep is not with me.
Opened memory boxes hidden in the garage.
Attempted to lighten my load of belongings.
I photographed their muddy artworks,
throwing out the dog eared originals. As I lingered
over my children's photos - pictures of ponies and
streamers in gold green and auburn revealing
- colors of time.
Boxes worn.
I cut down to two tattered boxes.
Label: "IMPORTANT FRAGILE"

Piles of trophies, sports jerseys and awards
posed for pictures. Filed them in icloud and
Google photo in case I lose sight of the images.
Thirty Yearbooks now in storage for
my kids homes of their own. When I peeked,
I couldn't recall the names signed with faces.
"Hey buddy you are great!!!" Love,Tanya.

High School reunion is marked on my calendar.
Hope to make it to my first one this year in July.
Will I match peoples names with their images?

A boy promised take me to prom then never showed up.
I know his name, not saying it, never hold in
your mind an unpleasant event.
Let it fly and begin again.

Happiness isn't dusty boxes or antique silver.

Letting go half the things I filled in my house.
Grateful.
A big gesture to
mark this change.
Downsize to a simple path.
Not juggling two jobs, writing at dawn, fighting
with tenants to do what's right.

A joy gift to mark my new life.
I placed an advertisement on #Freecycle with pictures of
my family room furniture. Freecycle is a website where
members post their requests or offer free items.
It Read:
All this for you. A single mom deserves these.
Borrow a truck or two and strong helpers.
Be prepared to accept everything.
Don't text me. Call to make arrangements.
Many texted, emailed and few called.
Each with their requirements.
"I can come next week, but I only want the
antique table." - I didn't answer.
"Will you deliver to me?" Nope.
"Is that a real Tufft table?" Yep.
The right call arrived. I gave them
my address. She asks, "what do you want in
return?"
"For you to be joyful."
They arrive with two funky trucks.
Grandmother's chairs, dining table, ikea
sofa with two new covers, mid century modern
coffee table, Tufft table not in great condition,
Regency writing desk, and linens flow from
my house to their vehicles.
The daughter jumps up and down.
Their excitement makes me giggle.

I am lighter. Ready for my new life.

“It is in the nature of things that joy 
arises in a person free from remorse.”
The Buddha (Cetana Sutta, Anguttara Nikaya)

Caroline Gerardo copyright c   May 3, 2016

Earth Day Poem

Thank you earth
paint green blue
river becomes ocean
teach us to
respect your
nature and fear
of random
power.

Caroline Gerardo 4/22/2016
Earth Day Poem
Copyright © 

Los Piños Peak Isn't Getting Old

Spring hits the Cleveland National Forest. Pampas whips a fairy wand at the entrance. Pampas grass is invasive. Wildflowers won’t endure without rain. Promises of El Nino didn’t bring nourishment to the mountains above Orange County. Still the endangered survive.

Past San Juan Capistrano driving where I have searched for a new home, without success. An advertisement in Craig’s List teased me for three nights. “Ranch house behind locked gate on Ortega Highway, cheap rent, need distinguished person who cares for nature.” River stone walls and fireplace in the photographs ring a hopeful lighthouse; I will find the right place. Meanwhile, I hike to bring on exhaustion sleep that doesn’t dream.

Ortega wiggles. Memory of hosting a birthday party at Casper’s Park overnight makes me smile. First other mothers volunteered but on Saturday night it was a huddle of eight boys, four pup tents and me. Flash lights and ghost stories murmured until I announced, “coyotes need their sleep.”

Stop at Candy Shack, “this week no passes are necessary.” Free entrance washes a glowing prediction for my hike. I squint looking for Main Divide on the left. Often lost, I make a u-turn and find the narrow road. Stay right on Long Canyon. Pass Blue Jay and Falcon there’s a gravel stand, parking for nine cars.

Five water bottles, first aid kit, para-cord, and a weapon are in the backpack. Los Piños Peak blocks the morning sun. Visitors who plan a trip to Orange County don’t think of gripping pine trees. Forest has englemann oak woodlands, fir groves and waterfalls. A Bell’s vireo sings. Hundreds of varieties of sage survive in these mountains. Bees know today the purple, azure and golden flowers are showing their magic. The trail changes from smooth to rough rocks with sliding sledge to slip your feet in seconds. It’s difficult to keep eyes on the ground ahead when the landscape bursts spectacular. Horkelia Cleveland opens her white petals to greet butterflies. Two hours walking alone. Wind drums dry Manzanita. Dodder with creepy rust cobwebs sucks life from plants. I can rally a group to carry machetes in here. Mind jumps when toes stumble. With no audience; no shame. If I fall I won’t mention a band-aid on wrinkled knees.

An uneasy feeling warns. Mountain lion bait. Bear bait. Coyote bait. A popping sound now as terrain transforms from steep shale to scrub oak. Morning glories don’t follow me. A skipper butterfly dives in front. Sun warms the wild rose hip cream on my legs. Rub my lips together to spread the flavor of lemon peel and cinnamon. Drink of water, one bottle over the tongue. Ahead, coulter pines and incense cedar groves call. Step careful for poison oak, you are wearing shorts. Soon my feet crunch on the soft needles and the toes are thankful for the break. Follow up the ridge line to the top of Los Piños Peak and on to Bell View Trail. Canyons offer peeks on left. The ocean is sparkling ice. At the next bend Lake in Elsinore and Hemet wash the horizon.

Too far to u-turn at three hours, fear of tics and snakes perks by a buzzard overhead. Temperatures are warm but the wind clears sweat away. I am a third Native American, the cougar or the bear. Trick the mind to be strong. Straighten back upright as the Spanish word pin. In a groove moving faster. I hear music. Parsipop techno music and muffled laughter echo ahead. I gain on them. Peeks of a girl with poles, Givenchy day pack and entourage of friends speckled in front of her. I surprise them with my quiet walk.

“Good morning.”

“This is too hard.” She tells me frowning.

“You can do it.” I say.

She looks into my sunglasses to check if I am making fun of her. Her teen friend comments to encourage.

"نگاه مونیک او قدیمی، او به هیچ قطب پیاده روی."

Lifting my glasses I say, “You’re young, with the poles you are safe.”

“She knows farsi!” The girl says.

I pat her shoulder. The boy with the loud music dances his head. Another says, “We’re turning back.”

I march on and wave farewell. The teen said I’m old. My foot has a pin that wanders. The ache reminds. Every step brings new opportunities. Limbs not as strong but courage sees from a better context than when I was younger.

Fatigue sneaks up while walking under the sun. A break when you reach the summit. Shuffle steps as the lungs don’t tire but the gray green gravel has a way of tricking a fall. The sounds of their voices disappear and I am alone hiking again. Wilderness shows the dance to the top. Spotting the path ahead, a huge climb smiles a me.. Drink a bottle of water.

Hours pass. Joy of a summit; find a geo-cache box near cairns. I don’t open it. I won’t spoil the secret. Then sliding incline, I baby step to locate a rock that doesn’t fail. An American flag at Bell View Canyon is a tiny flicker. The butterflies stay at my back, cheering me on to hurry. Finish strong they chant.

At the end, a suburban neighborhood doesn’t notice. Remove boots. Release the pain. Rub the crumbs of skin mixed with dust and sage on my face. Where are those keys?

I’m out of gas. Last bottle of water goes in, barefoot foot on the accelerator; find a station that takes a Chevron gift card.

Los Piños Peak hike

Geo-cache I found up there

lupine on the trail in real 3-d they are gorgeous

American flag ahead at Bell's View

Caroline Gerardo Copyright April 16, 2016 do not use images or poetry without written permission

Home Made Ginger Ale

 

Ginger root chlorine free water love.

Hidden potion store caught by iphone.

You might call it a subconscious selfie.

Aging women duck posing sans lipstick. 

Are you also obsessed with jihadist poison?

Epicurious ginger beer recipe soothes souls.

The root is poverty, shame, and gnarly inside.

Eating slowly they say coke dissolves a penny.

But not ginger beer secured in ancient bottles.

Probiotic magically changes like our prayers.

Chanting joy in my garden heals the earth.

Rain feeds wildflowers up in the canyon.

Have a sip and sing to overcome hate.

Caroline Gerardo copyright © April 11, 2016  Home Made Ginger Ale Poem

House Burning

Burning

Wild chicken dance.

Maui feral birds, aren't edible, neighbor speechless mess. 

Arms flap she's at my door running in circles, "house burning!"

Put down panel of glass loading in the rental.

Thick green liquid is about to go in the trunk. 

Grab tool box, "here's a crow bar, come on."

Doors locked while bacon and eggs tremble.

Fire alarm shrieks from inside the kitchen.  

Flames belly dance out of pots on the stove.

All dam doors, garage and windows secure. 

Pound out the hinge pins from patio door. 

From the plastic chair I fail without anger.

"Call 911!" I tell her. 

Eggs invisible from the outside. 

Fumes fill house, mourning doves scatter.

My iphone4 is in my car two doors down.

I smash laundry room window with the pry bar.

Icy pieces of safety glass clang. Metal scrapes the window clean.

Reach, unlock the door, sirens approach. 

Inside smoky dark I locate a fire hydrant. 

A small hand held method to end danger.

Loud male voices shout,"Who is inside?"

"Me." I'm coughing."We got it from here."

 Neighbor stands under pink blooming tree.

Dancing and muttering, "house burning."  

"No everything is okay," I say. We hug.

I pick up two of the flowers from the ground

crushed by the boots of handsome firemen, hand her one.

Perfume carried in my pocket today.

"Thanks," I say. I'm late, appointment.

 Hustle the windows for glazing repair.

Will I love neighbors when I move? 

House built of kindness and compost

Creosote rail road tie in summer sun,

community tar hangs on my day. 

Caroline Gerardo copyright April 1 2016

Not April fools - this was my morning 

Peony

Peonies Poem

Sweet peas open over hillsides of the dump.

A closed landfill, named for a historic battle 

where Natives buried unaccounted.

Methane feeds flowers, glory sunset, 

launching torches of perfume.

Peonies are my 'besties;  

I've rose patents

certificate Master Gardener, 

but children won't listen

when I strum Richie Blackmore.

Peonies don't care for heavy metal.

Farmer's Almanac spouts herbaceous  

require certain cool nature.

My parents were screamers.

Never hit mine. 

My knee required stitches, 

after two weeks 

dentist said, 

"OOH, too late for pediatrician,

sewing was needed."

Wounds heal with care - not time.  

Treasures prefer relaxing Epsom baths.

Ghosts jump from 

blue plastic tarps brittle, pillows

and bobs needing recycling.

I worked, planned, cried, 

worked planned

did I do enough 

by myself?

Peonies 

Please

tell 

them

your

secrets.

Caroline Gerardo copyright 3/28/2016 Peony Poem

Elephant Seals

Bullet diver. 

Swim oceans elegant breath,

 see Fukushima radioactive isotopes?

Extinction survivor. 

Die before your children is better 

than wailing on shore search for pups.

Crafty MacGyver

Give tourists a circus show,

bark at stealing photographs.

Elephant thriver

Enjoy sun upon your skin.

Protect your harem families.

Seal of silver

Return from turquoise travels,

avoid the boats.

Caroline Gerardo copyright 3/24/2016

Elephant Seals Poem

Snowman

Snowman
Stand above trees,
climb falls, and
defy melting.
Laugh at stealers.
Water made hand.
Create balls of ice.
Nourish the forest.
Lodge pole pines
give oxygen love .
Make
great
build
think
do
artfully
new.
Get to work
snowman.


Caroline Gerardo
copyright 3/13/2016

Snow Angels

Yosemite meadow whispers, 

wind brushes snow. 

"Where no man has gone before!"

 My brother says, dropping his body 

prone on his back 

then laughs hysterically, 

swim his arms and swish legs.

Leave a perfect angel.

Back out cover tracks, 

 branch of cedar perfume.

Driving home pass the valley

 where  El Portal rests

under the cover of fog.

Is Cary Stayner still alive?

Do ghosts haunt the town?

His brother returns from abduction, 

scarring the family.

Those Devils never learned how to make snow angels?

Caroline Gerardo 3/5/2016 Copyright

Life's A Rush

Life's A Rush  Caroline Gerardo

Day break

Life's a rush

passing lane 

robin fell from cloud

red breast signs of cheer

a greeting of spring

  boys are prettier

 digging the front garden 

What got him?

 a crow 

West Nile 

 drought

peaceful, 

yes full

saving cibachrome 

appears less sad

iphone 4 is my camera

shopping for a drone

to fly.

Soar

dart and carbon wind

speed will stabilize

high above the lake

where gnats swarm

my robin need only

open his beak

to enjoy

a fill of 

mossy

life

Caroline Gerardo copyright 2/29/2016   Lake Kaweah