Cresting the Cascades (the Feathered Scent of Hope)

 

A thousand trees from sunset,

each with a hand held out our windows

 

cupping an apricot wind,

a warm pine breeze combs through our hair.

 

We curve, and twist,

take one last dip

 

before the fall of the sun

and the rising

 

of a champagne moon

bubbling up,

 

spilling the glass,

jealous of day’s light.

 

And just like that,

she’s cresting the berried branches,

 

nesting on the seat

between us,

 

that thing with feathers,

suddenly thirsty, opening wide,

 

suddenly bright.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

  

For The Word Garden Word List and

What’s Going On?  Fragrance

 

Hope is the thing with feathers – Emily Dickinson, of course.

 

El Vernadero

 

It’s more than a place,

it’s a calling—

where red hibiscus,

and pink, too,

blush the air with their kisses.

 

This old Spanish hotel,

a retreat among royal palms,

where Florence’s Alcove

calls poets back to their gurgling dreams

near carvings of animals

and fountains for black-throated sparrows.

 

It’s more than a respite, or retreat,

it’s an oasis shaded in the desert sun,

where little casitas dot storied stone pathways

 

—and just walking here

turns lion to lamb,

and my eyes—brown silk,

soft and lamplit,

as if in parallel realm,

cured of the madness

of a lesser world.

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

 

Combining the prompts from two of my most-admired poets.

Shay’s Word Garden Word List

Dora’s Poetics at dVerse: A View of One’s Own (I’m too late to link)

 

“El Vernadero” means “winter haven” and was the original name of the “Royal Palms” at the base of Camelback Mountain in Arizona.  I live locally and visit it often—and feel as if I’m on vacation every time I do—even just walking the grounds.  I could not love it more.

 

Photos © 2025 Jennifer Wagner

 

Memorial Flowers

 

Tomorrow we’ll attend your service of remembrance.  And I will remember you.  Your stories, your recipes, your smile and laughter at our beloved Labrador.  Your love of sweets, your faith in God.  I am happy your body held out and held up long enough to see you into an age many don’t survive to—and happy I got to know you.  It was a blessing to bless you.  To visit you and hear your voice of pride for your children, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter.  I hope I am as happy and delight-filled and delightful as you were in all my last days.

 

white natal plum blossom

dropped from the shrub

still scents the air on hummingbird wings

 

 

© 2025 Jennifer Wagner

dVerse Haibun Monday: Memento Mori

 

for my beloved neighbor Mary