a reflection on purpose

I’ve been living in a time of export
producing roughly-hewn artifacts, displaying
them like sand-stuccoed magnets for passing tourists,
filming plastic bags twirling haphazardly in the wind
and calling it art

my gardening, utilitarian
fertilized holes filled with seeds whose potential
will feed my family, fill our bellies, nourish
our bodies and offer…

For my father, long after his stroke

He is the shining knight of my youth,
donning dark blue polyester baseball shorts.
My provider, my protector, in a
pseudo fu-manchu style mustache
dribbling down his chin like
moss on an oak tree.

He is a rugged outdoorsman,
sending me up tree stands…

Lessons from the redwoods

here I stand, not unaccompanied, in desperation
of smoke-infused lungs, orange skies, and abandoned
livestock, my youngest could not sleep with her grief
for the chickens left behind

There is no one left to fight this fire.
They are all battling flames elsewhere,

We are all battling flames somewhere,
The world…

Anne Fricke

author, poet, storyteller, podcaster, mother, wife, traveler, questioner annefricke.com

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