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Jessica Juice and Joy

The Stamp House

As far back as I can remember, snippets of verse pop into my head. Sometimes I actually write them down (on whatever is handy – grocery receipts, envelopes, iPhone notepad). Sometimes I actually write a complete (“complete”) poem and do something with it. “The Stamp House” came to me on a Saturday morning, and I knew I had to “complete” this idea. Happy Mother’s Day to my mother, the ‘Mama” in this poem.
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The Stamp House

The clicking spin of the black plastic wheel inside the green box
I watch from tiptoes
Each slot a number
Pale green stamps inch out

Each trip the same
Mama gathers the stamps
Collects the curved rolls

Saturdays (especially rainy)
She’d lick them in rows
In a gray paper booklet

Drapes for the kitchen and long hall
A hand mixer with three settings
(Think of the cakes!)
A record player, a clock, a wok

By the time I got a new bedspread
(blue-grey with tiny white flowers with
matching curtains, plus porcelain lamps with
wee white flowers etched against the blue…
grown-girl bedding at last all my own)
The Stamp Houses were closing

Shutting down one by one
Green stamps replaced by plastic bags
Rotary wheels removed
Along with manual cash registers
And five cent gum

I suppose I circled my choice in the catalog
And we bought my livid blue beauty
Drove to an unknown town with the last Stamp House
I loved those matching curtains (floor-length)
Blowing in the spring breeze
That bedspread with piping and ruffles skimming the carpet
The lamps’ white shades casting soft shadows on my blue made bed

Mama had leftover stamps
(she tried to spend them all)
A few rippled pages remain
Tucked away in a drawer
In a filing shelf of my memory

–Jessica Vance, May 2015

Categories
Jessica Juice and Joy Life in Colorado

This Wind Though

It’s the last day of National Poetry Month, and the wind has been howling here in Boulder for three days. It’s been an obnoxious wind making me wonder if it’s worth it to live here. In honor of the wind and National Poetry Month, I’ll share a draft of a poem I wrote on a windy day a couple of months ago.

This Wind Though

I live in a place where the wind has a name
and grows wild
whistling tunes through the door
tossing mats swings or bins to the side
shaking bird feeders and tangling chimes

This wind means to snatch your hat
and laugh as it carries it,
watching you chase with your arms reaching

It will slap
right in the eye
with hair turned to a sharp whip

This wind can shatter your car glass
leave you stunned
while you lean into it to stay on your feet,
dipping like an embrace you don’t want to give

This wind though

This wind

Is the one you love
bringing warmth overnight
shoving aside the freeze,
dragging in air 35 degrees warmer
(From where?
where does your wind find this air?
how does your wind convince the warmth to follow and obey?)

This wind though

Is the wind that sways the aspen leaves
those beloved shimmering ovals of gray green
that mesmerize and cast love spells on visitors
this is the wind that makes love to those trees, the quaking trees

This wind though

Too is the one that bends the grasses in a way that breaks your heart,
the grasses set against that blue blue sky
in a way that makes you want to run through the field,
lie down and cry tears that belong to the world

This wind with its name
that swirls around your mouth
that forms on your tongue and lips like a kiss
the name said just for the pleasure of saying it
hearing it

Shin ook

Chin ook

Chinook

–Copyright 2014, Jessica Vance, all rights reserved
 
 

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Juice and Joy

Tis the Season of…

The World is Too Much with Us

by William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.–Great God!

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I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

1807

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Juice and Joy

Sunday "Long" Run

I mostly just want to post from my phone, but I do also want to keep track of my progress as I make my way back into the world of running.

Sarah and I met Sunday morning for a 4-mile jog around Lady Bird Lake trail. It was good to run and run on the trail.

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I’ve really missed it. We got to cheer for Run for the Water racers and felt slightly guilty for not volunteering (we were captains of a water stop last year).

Best news is that my foot didn’t bother me during or after the run. 🙂

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Categories
Juice and Joy

Fall Back

Today was a glorious outside day.

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We took our kids and 4 neighborhood kids to the park where I ran 3 miles. So, whoop-de-doo, you say? Well, I’ve had plantar fasciitis since July. PF took over my life in a cruel way. I didn’t want to walk to the kitchen for fear of intense pain in my heel and foot, and running was not even on my map. For months, I have just wanted to walk and stand without pain. I honestly didn’t care if I ever ran again if I could just go about normal life without pain.

My foot is still sore a lot, but I’ve been able to slowly build up to running. I started barefoot in grass several weeks ago. It’s been up and down with the running just like this entire injury. One day, my foot feels good, and then I’m back to grimacing with pain.

However, today is a new day. I hope to fall back into running regularly. I miss it and my running friends. Let’s hope my foot is happy tomorrow, so that I might see those friendly Gazelles soon. 🙂

– Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone