Bridget at wee words for wee ones is our host this week for Poetry Friday.Â
GATHERING PIECES OF MYSELF
Re-orient.
Re-set.
Re-entry.
Step into my yard. Survey the desertscape.
Listen for the thrasher – he lives again in the Texas Ebony
outside my bedroom window.
My return goes unnoticed by hummingbirds, busy
collecting nectar from a night-blooming cereus
(so many stems this year!).
The hillside beyond my fence beckons –
I make a mental note: time to train the new pup
how to walk a narrow trail.
I wonder what needles we may need to navigate.
Give a nod to a cobwebbed hurricane glass,
guarding the melted remains
of a spent candle.
Save a stone turtle, toppled—
so he can resume his forever-forging
of the boulder beside the barrel cactus.
One ocotillo dances green;
one sits silent – maybe it too,
is gathering pieces of itself.
Rightly arranged, my bones
allow me to stand upright, to walk.
I can step into this world
and it will make sense.
I gather
coffee, poetry, notebook.
Good. Morning.
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
October 20, 2022
…hummingbird, busy collecting nectar…
…the hillside beyond my fence beckons…
PIECES OF MYSELF
five lava chips I lifted from the arroyo
a linen papered wish, collecting dust
one precious Penny – a sign you sent after you left
set on my desk, just right
pieces to finger when words won’t come
reminders of what is beautiful,
what breaks my heart
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
October 20, 2022
“Imagine” © 2022 Patricia J. Franz from What Is a Friend? by Sylvia Vardell & Janet Wong
Some Poetry Friday friends have asked about how to create a video-poem like this one. I used CANVA (the free version!) and am offering to share what how to do this with anyone interested.
I’ll be setting up a zoom call for those who would like to learn. Send your email to me (patricia@patriciajfranz.com) and I’ll include you when we set the date.
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
The exquisite sensory details in your poem transports me back to the desert, Patricia, one of my favorite places on earth. Thank you. 🙂
Thank you, Bridget. Once I complete my “re-entry,” I realize how much I love it too.
Love this idea of re-entry. Every time we go to a place (even if familiar) we have that re-entry, right?
Re-entry was my short hand for the bumpy returns my husband would have coming home from a long business trip while our kids were young. It remains with me.
I haven’t visited the desert often but when there, fell in love with the ocotillo, Patricia, love your mention of them, and the encompassing all that you love in this world of yours.
The ocotillo may be my favorite. They don’t always “green out” – sort of a passive-aggressive desert species! But their burnt orange tassels always make me smile when they do!
I feel much calmer after reading this contemplative post. Such a pleasure becoming immersed in your desert world. Enjoyed your poems and was surprised when I clicked on the hummingbird photo to discover it was a little video :). And speaking of videos, wonderful job on your video-poem. Love your choice of images — perfect complements to your inspiring words.
Thank you, Jama. The desert can be quite contemplative. 🙂
The words that really get me, “maybe it too is gathering pieces of itself.” You make me want to enter the scene with my notebook and coffee too! Happy writing.
Thank you, Linda. It is a wonderful space to gather oneself!
The assorted gatherings and musings come together at the end of your poem and your writing and reading materialize. I enjoyed your rehearsal, your process,. You helped me revisit my own preparations for the writing time. Our locations may be world’s apart, but there is common ground, nonetheless. Thank you Patricia
Hmm…I’ll have to think more about the “rehearsal” you have lifted up. Thank you, Alan.
The specificity of details in both of your poems is fantastic. The first gives an actual resettling feeling as it’s read. The second aches, but with such a feeling of love.
Yes, why do we keep these certain things nearby? Thank you, Mary Lee.
The small things that put us back together.
That’s it, Cathy! I was just musing on why we keep these small things, these piece of ourselves? Thank you!
Thank you for inviting me into your backyard, Patricia. It feels like a wonderful place to gather coffee, poetry, and notebook. Such rich images to contemplate.
Next time in Phoenix, Rose, we’ll have coffee here. 🙂
I love this stanza, Patricia.
Rightly arranged, my bones
allow me to stand upright, to walk.
I can step into this world
and it will make sense.
I’m sure it’s both lovely and challenging to shift gears each time you move from one place to the other. I wouldn’t have thought it would be disorienting, bu that’s what this poem makes me think!
Yes, disorienting in that, the seasons are so different in each place. Sometimes, I live them out of order!
Patricia, I thought I added my comment to your post, but it may have been one of those when I fell asleep without commenting on different blogs. Thanks for the app Comic 2. I am having fun playing with it and a few other apps. Your Pieces of Myself is a tender, emotional poem that seems to have such significance. Sorry this is so late in coming. See you at PF this week.
Oh Carol, you are so kind to stop by and leave this note. Thanks!
Patricia, I am not sure if I told you to add my name to your Canva Video tutorial. Please let me know when you schedule the time and date.
Sent the link just now to your gmail.