by Linda Buckley | Aug 18, 2021 | Poetry
I heard them first. Short puffs of air interrupting thoughts and thimbleberry picking on a quiet morning walk. Squinting and searching a sun splintered sea I scanned for seals. But there were no seals. No sea lions, no humpbacks exhaling mist across calm waters at...
by Linda Buckley | Mar 31, 2021 | Pandemic Poems, Poetry
My poem today: A wet white feather flaps over eagle’s eyes. His yellow beak frosted with each breath. Beady eyes search for scraps in the snow. It’s been a long winter huddled high in hemlock and spruce. He flies low over tide flats dreaming of...
by Linda Buckley | Feb 2, 2021 | News & Updates, Pandemic Poems
I burrow deep wrapped in soft blue flannel sheets. In the distance my high altitude alarm clock, Alaska Airlines 6am flight to Seattle. I burrow deeper. In forty-eight hours I will fly away on that same early flight, get my required Covid test and then head to Kona. A...
by Linda Buckley | Jan 8, 2021 | Pandemic Poems
Scientists rallied to find a fast cure after all the suffering we had to endure. The government called it operation warp speed get those shots in their arms the mandate decreed. Moderna and Pfizer raced to the finish our fears and concerns they tried to diminish....
by Linda Buckley | Nov 29, 2020 | Poetry
Dear Cello, Your beauty bewilders. Such grace and poise carved from a tree. Tchaikovsky and Mozart wait beneath your spruce belly. You need only the pull of a horsehair bow or the pluck of a finger to release sonatas, suites, rhapsodies, concertos. I carefully draw a...
by Linda Buckley | Nov 6, 2020 | Pandemic Poems, Poetry
It was a home birth In a big hot tub. She slid into warm water in the middle of the living room. Her brother and sister watched the miracle. As she took her first breath A bird flew through an open window right over the new baby. Sister Luna, age three, Shouted...
