The smells of fresh mown hay, corn roasting,
Ginger in warm apple cider mixing,
Colors in leaves on the nearby trees
Proclaim Indian summer is upon our land again.
The smoke from the burning of fallen leaves,
Follows wherever I go.
The pumpkins, wheat straw and the setting sun
Have all been brushed with a golden tint.
When a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis
Catches my eye as I sit listening
While a wind song plays on the chimes above.
The magic of the moment is such
That across the field I seem to see in sight
A bronze chested warrior striding through.
I will miss this Indian summer when it’s gone.
#NativeAmericanDay #AutumnPoem
TRAPPED
Hunted by an unknown
I have fled in my terror
Alone
Into this suffocating dark
Where I turn, ever turn
Lost
#Depression #DepressionandDreams
FOR BUNNY, Our Airedale
You were born for the river, boy,
and the spell of the rushing current’s call.
You were all our splashing days of summer sun
(but Winter rest and contentment, too.)
By our rule your long life’s end
came all too soon.
We buried you on the bank
by the river’s constant roll,
and through summer days
and long winter nights
the lonely bark of brother dog
echoed across the deep water,
and the ghost of your memory
nudged into our rooms
So that we each, alone, wept quietly.
#Airedale #KidsandDogs #AdoptaShelterDogMonth
SMOKEY
Memories of Smokey will last me forever—
Moist brown eyes, a constantly wagging tail,
A tongue that licked me on every occasion,
Just trying to say she loved me.
We played “catch the ball” many times.
She would chew the ball to bits at night.
Although a friend to every child around,
She would bark at any stranger.
A very common border collie rescued
From the city dog pound,
But then she left us. Behind remained
A lifetime of joy, love and companionship.
#AdoptaShelterDogMonth #BorderCollie
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“BUNNY” was a favorite dog in a long line of dogs rescued by the author’s father, a firefighter with a soft spot and talent for training dogs. Bunny was registered with the AKC. The author’s mother kept this record in her family scrapbook. Bunny’s registered name was “Baxter.” The author told her children that when Bunny wanted water, he would stand by the kitchen sink and ask for it, saying “Wah Wah.”
RFLECTIONS—a poem by Robert Roxby
“SMOKEY” was the dog acquired for the author’s son. This poem and the poem above are included this week in honor of Adopt a Shelter Dog Month. The poem originally appeared in the author’s anthology, “Reflections on a Lifetime.”
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“TRAPPED” was inspired by a dream the author experienced while struggling with depression and is included in the spirit of spooky October.
SUBMISSION GUIDELINES
Readers who write in response to one of the prompts listed each month in Splintered Glass, may see their work presented here on the last week of that month. Though poems are preferred, short prose work will also be considered for publication.
Guidelines for submission:
SPLINTERS FOR OCTOBER 2021
WHERE, MY BROTHERS, WHERE?
I hear the planets
call my name
and the ocean in echo
answering…my name
In the wind
the rippling grasses
the rustling leaves
the sand beneath my feet
I hear the whisper of my name
I hear, my brothers,
but I do not understand.
You call and I must come,
but where, my brothers, where?
#NativeAmericanDay #DepressionPoetry
An Indian Song
Weep, willow, kai!
The sun of sorrow is crossing the sky
Weep, willow, kai!
The morning of sorrow lays dew on the eye.
O, Cholena!*
Though the grasses of Echo Place
No longer know thy lithesome steps;
And the waters of Beautiful Mountain
No longer know the grace
Thy body lent their crystal depths;
And the songbirds of the Forest of Fire
No longer are mute with their desire
To hear thy dreamy voice;
Though thou be forgotten
By countless other things,
Each white, new dawn
Shall remember
Finding thee living still
Within mine eyes;
And twilight mist
Remember
Hearing my cry
Beat its lonely, wild wings
Against the gray dust
On evening sky:
O, Cholena,
Thou are not forgotten,
My dear!
Weep, willow, kai!
Weep, willow, kai!
*Cholena means bird and is of Native American origin.
#NativeAmericanDay #Mourning #ElegyPoem #LovePoem
INDIAN SUMMER
The smells of fresh mown hay, corn roasting,
Ginger in warm apple cider mixing,
Colors in leaves on the nearby trees
Proclaim Indian summer is upon our land again.
The smoke from the burning of fallen leaves,
Follows wherever I go.
The pumpkins, wheat straw and the setting sun
Have all been brushed with a golden tint.
When a glimpse of the Aurora Borealis
Catches my eye as I sit listening
While a wind song plays on the chimes above.
The magic of the moment is such
That across the field I seem to see in sight
A bronze chested warrior striding through.
I will miss this Indian summer when it’s gone.
#NativeAmericanDay #AutumnPoem
Author’s Notes
GLASS RAIN—the poetry by Margaret Roxby
“AN INDIAN SONG” reflects the author’s lifelong interest in the American Indians, their languages and philosophy–an interest which was sparked early in her life by Longfellow’s “Song of Hiawatha,” which she often quoted, and the Indian names all around her—like the name of her hometown river, Ohio.
REFRACTIONS—a poem by Robert Roxby
“INDIAN SUMMER” was included in his 2000 anthology, “Reflections on a Lifetime.” It is included this week for the Autumn season and also as a nod to Native American Day.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS—the poetry of Kathleen Roxby
“WHERE, MY BROTHERS, WHERE,” though this is one of the author’s “depression poems,” it was inspired by a trip to British Columbia, Canada and learning about the Tlingit people and some of their folklore.