Poems by Monica Stillman

Meadow Walk

by Monica Stillman

From Canary Spring 2024

Monica lives next to the Pacific Ocean where a steelhead stream runs down from the oak- and sage-covered hills to meet the sea -- moving waters, migrating sand, and bird calls.

I wear morning glory
blooms for shoes
so as not to startle
nesting birds

breathe in spicy
warmth of sage

drape loose bees
around my shoulders, hum

pocket-full the flowers -
shooting star, owl’s
clover, pale checker mallow

brush thistle down
from my hair
with a lupine comb

count my riches -
a million golden poppies
crowd around

© Monica Stillman

Roaming Coastal Hills

by Monica Stillman

From Canary Fall 2024

Long before I discovered this place
in my thirst for freedom,
someone stitched these hills together
with lines of fences to hem in the cows.

Great silent oaks hover over the grassland
snagged like tumbleweeds.
Wouldn't they like to ramble
across the vales?

Mightn't the cows want to climb
to the ridgeline to meet
the crisp October sky,
the limitless oceans beyond?

I would unlace the fences, strip the barbs
from the drying forbs this October
if I could, take back clipped words,
reach for ways I once passed by.

© Monica Stillman

Summer Solstice

by Monica Stillman

From Canary Summer 2024

Today light filled the sky before my eyes could see
a reflection of how small we are

I step from stone to stone to cross the creek
recalling all my strengths and frailties

We are not the center of the universe,
we lie cradled on a distant arm

Cosmos track the sun like hope-filled faces
I try to follow

In ancient times today the sun would shine through sacred stones
reminding me of modern hubris, how we alter fragile webs of seasons

We are not all that we deem
but perhaps we can be more

Recalling it is Earth’s tilt that makes today so wide
I consider hope

How something dear may come to tender close today
and something dear, as yet unknown, may bloom