Almost

I almost wrote today . . .
After a year away . . .
Perhaps tomorrow . . .
I'll have something more to say . . .
But I guess I'm still not brave enough
Today.

Cherice Montgomery
1/8/2011

A Patchwork of Perspectives

Threads of conversation--
Snippets of text--
Carefully cut
From the fabric
Of her life
And set aside
In the cedar chest
Of her heart
Until the pieces
Suddenly made sense
Stitched together.
Though a few stray doubts
Still stuck out
The shivering stopped
And her worries
Finally fell asleep.

Cherice Montgomery, 1-17-10

Skunked

Birthday candles on Kara's cake,
Blinking fireflies celebrate.
I went to see--to my surprise
A skunk appeared before my eyes!

I ran inside--my camera grabbed.
Then in a flash, this shot I nabbed.
The baby skunk was VERY brave!
He turned to face me--no tail wave!

I slipped away, then read online
I'm lucky that it turned out fine,
For skunks can aim 7 feet away
And hit their target--night or day.

They do not see things very well
But they can hear, and they can smell!
And when they face and follow you
It sometimes means they're rabid too!

But even so, I have to say
I'm glad this skunk came out to play
He looks soooo cute and cuddly.
Move here and you too can see!

Cherice Montgomery, July 11, 2008

When I returned home from a quick birthday celebration at my friend, Kara's house, it was dusk. The fireflies were blinking so beautifully that I decided to wander around the side of my apartment to the vacant field next door to appreciate them for a brief moment before heading inside and back to work. Imagine my surprise when I rounded the bush and saw a tiny little skunk wandering around!

I watched him for a brief moment, then ran inside to grab my camera, certain he would be gone by the time I returned. However, amazingly, he was still there. He didn't seem to appreciate the flash of the camera, and to my surprise, turned to face me. As I moved, he moved toward me a little. That was disconcerting. However, since I was so far away, and his tale wasn't facing me, I assumed I was safe. I did back away from him, but still tried to grab a few more photos before I decided not to trust him any more.

Had I known then that he could aim with perfect accuracy while 7-12 feet away, I might not have been quite so trusting!


Reminds me of a cute little song I learned a long time ago:

The stars at night go twink-a-link-a-link
The moon at night goes blink-a-link-a-link
The skunk at night goes stink-a-link-a-link
I think that I'll just die

Oh, twink-a-link-a-link
Oh, blink-a-link-a-link
Oh, stink-a-link-a-link
Oh my!

(Author unknown)

I think I might have to modify it in honor of this occasion:

Fireflies at night go twink-a-link-a-link
My flash at night goes blink-a-link-a-link
The skunk at night goes stink-a-link-a-link
But grab a photo I'll try

Oh, twink-a-link-a-link
Oh, blink-a-link-a-link
Oh, stink-a-link-a-link
Oh my!

(Adapted from an unknown author by Cherice Montgomery)

Just another installment of what is fast becoming my Michigan Wildlife Tour! For more information on the humane discouragement of skunks visit Coping with Skunks. I found it quite interesting!

The Test

Standardized
For the fourth time
But it didn’t help
Her make sense

What was
Didn’t matter
She felt

Her meaning
Reduced
Like a fraction
No remainder.

Cherice Montgomery, July 11, 2008

A Spider Story

What did yooou do on Halloween?
I ate a spider or two.
Natalie made them and served them to me,
So I thought I'd share them with you!


(To the tune of The Itsy Bitsy Spider)

These itsy bitsy spiders were baked on Halloween.
They climbed onto the table without being seen!
Then into my bowl of chili they crawled,
And I watched them swim around there, completely enthralled!

Cherice Montgomery, November 5, 2007

Why can't they?

(Note: The poem will make much more sense if you click on each individual photo--or save yourself the trouble and view the slide show.)


It started with half-formed thoughts.

Celestial scribbles . . .

. . . smeared with cosmic paint on the canvas of her mind.

Until, with a sudden flash of inspiration,

powerful ideas

ignited possibility.

A concept exploded into existence,

producing cosmic confetti

that filled her soul

with light.

Why can't THEY?

Why CAN'T they?

WHY can't they?

Feel the fire?

See the exquisite entities emerging from the flames?

Hear the harmonies?!

Perhaps it is a question of perception?

Maybe her scintillating conversations . . .

. . . are inconsequential specks to them?

Maybe her galaxies . . .

Are their fuzzy poodles?

A post that ends with a poodle doesn't impact the reader with much of a bang, does it?!

Or even a sizzle, really! :-(

More like a fizzle, if you ask me!


















Poem & Photos by Cherice Montgomery - July 7, 2007

For My Friend

When your voice collapsed,
I knew your world had too.

So many layers
Of life
And so much love
Suddenly in pieces
On the floor of your heart.

Sharp shards of
Piercing pain
Etch grief
On every surface
Of the soul.

Heartfelt words
Echo hollowly--
Emphasizing
The emptiness
They were meant to fill.

My heart aches for you.

November 20, 2005

Once you let someone into you heart, they become a part of who you are, and you become a part of them. Neither divorce, death, nor distance can change that. Love integrates. Grief only testifies of love.

The Mosaic

In a flash of torrential trauma
Words intrude--
Hard, jagged edges
Ripping into her reverie,
Puncturing her peace,
Shattering her soul.

Stunned,
she stumbles,
then stands
sloshing, slogging,
through painful puddles
of gray grief

until sunshine emerges—

Evaporating
the wailing wind
into a weak whisper . . .
"Seek safety . . . in the shadows!"
it sighs,
. . . solace within the shards!"

They sparkle
in the scintillating sunlight
she collects—herself—
Colors connect,
catalyzing
catharsis.

—and energy expands

Filling the void
with multiplicity,
Mixing media
Restores reason
and roundness
to a Still Life.

Cherice Montgomery, October 8, 2005

A Puzzle

Peace
comes in pieces . . .
an edge here,
a corner there . . .
of connection.

But the Meaning?

Still flat--
stuck
somehow
in the spaces
between.

And Life?

Beyond the borders?
Or in the layers
of the jumble
that persists . . .
Within?

Cherice Montgomery, August 15 - September 17, 2005

The Gap

To a child
Sprinkled exposure
Seems infinite, complete

Yet at the piece
So "large"--so small!
An adult chuckles silently

'Tis nothing more
Than crumbs to him
Having from larger tables supped

Yet for the child,
So innocent,
A crumb's more than enough!

(Cherice Montgomery, Fall 1989)

Time for Apple Cider

A soul full of cider
wanders,
thoughtfully sipping
a solitary, wind-swept hill
crunching colors,
then drinking deeply.

The apple-red happiness burns,
igniting cheeks
now stuffed
with majestic vistas.

Crumbs of shared smiles
cling,
like cinnamon-sugar,
and jack-o-lantern grins
expose
the tiny, flicker of flame within
that yearns,
burns,
longs to see itself
in trusted eyes
leap joyful
again,
and again,
and again.

It is, indeed, time for apple cider.

(Cherice Montgomery, October 5, 2003)