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About The North Coast times-eagle. (Wheeler, Oregon) 1971-2007 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 1, 1994)
2BYJIMDOTT WARD OFFTHE DARK Birds of the summer. Birds of the sun. Hum m ingbirds flash bright irridescent red gorgets, green glittering backs; Tiny servants to flowering plants, hooked on their nectar, spreading their pollen, forever hum m ing from flower to flower. To sustain one thousand heart beats in a m inute nectar becomes your life. Here in the N orth it is winter: Low pressure systems, heavy frost, cold fronts, grey skies, and rain, rain, rain. The hum m ingbirds have long since flown south with the sun. It will be m onths before they return. M eanwhile, we decorate with brilliant reds, strong greens and light candles, bum fires to w ard off the dark, to remind us of the miraculous, to remember the sun. Hummingbirds hover before blossoms, pull back, dip, fly upside down, spin 'round to feed from another; perch for an instant on bending grass blade then blurr back to the blossoms. They snatch small insects when and where ever they can. Try to stay clear of cats and kestrels. Males make fast-flying, high looping courtship displays. Females lay their eggs and raise the hatchlights in hidden nests. They fight in fierce fun over the best nectaries and feed and feed. Sunlight comes to life. Flowers in flight. W ard off the dark. Remember: birds of the summer, birds of the sun. DAVID McLIMAS A SONG OF PUBLIC SAFETY (con tremore) I was nervous and alarm ed- Felt naked and u n arm ed - To muggers I was b a it- Eternal victimhood my fate. B ut- (con spirito) Now I have a friend To soothe me and defend, Who can help me cope with any danger-scene; Well-oiled and well-blued, A balanced, polished dude With a custom-fitted 12-shot magazine. WATCHING BIRDS The pre-dawn quiet's cut By the caws of crows crowding into an alder from all directions. They converse loudly and then fly off, glinting black chips of obsidian, calling sharply one to another, together to the sun. It perches on my place-mat when I eat; When I drive it's in a pocket 'neath my scat; At work I wear it in my shoulder holster. When I bathe it;s in a baggie on the floor; When I crap I hold it pointed at the door; It nestles every night beneath my bolster. These days it's easy to fill your head with division, with us versus them: Remembrances of the horrors of the holocaust, broken cease-fires in civil wars, drive-by shootings on the news Car-jackers never faze me; Drive-by shooters barely graze me; Bullet-holes m ake burglars lots less bold. With my fist around my piece. I've no need of the police— Who wants to spend an hour stuck on Hold? A single swan swims with a goose flock, white neck curved above dark, wind-ripped waters. My answer to bad guys from Van Nuys to Moscow: My Roscow! Easy to wonder if progress is really the course of history. Or have we just progressed our weapons, fabricated new enemies, and dressed up our hatred in latest fashion. (con reverenza) No one can harm me now; No one can disarm me now. Sure as guns created our great nation, My pistol is my rock and my sal-va-a-tion! A kingfisher flits from piling to piling rising and dipping, rising and dipping. It calls once then flies into the fog, quickly vanishing over open water. -PETER LARSON PROMISED Jim Dott & Peter Larson are Astoria residents. • Dark currents twisting coldly through the course of my soul m urm uring Death, plying their trade on the tired skin of my dreams. Careful steps beneath the crush of destiny through the crowd of lies, tethered to secret Hope enfolded in moments when I glimpsed your face. But within the us is also what it takes to heal the split, the will to open minds and hearts and arms to them. Michael Alexander is a newly arrived resident of A storia. SHARE THE PAIN 1052 Commercial. A«toria OD 97103 Easy to see truth in lies you'd love to believe, easy to find righteousness in your anger, easy to argue without listening. And turn your back on friends. A lone loon sits in the slough, the last orange-red light mirrored on water polished smooth by rare lack of wind. -MICHAEL ALEXANDER Antique« • C ollectible« • G ift« CHRISTOPHE VORLET CLATSOP COUNTY WOMEN'S CRISIS SERVICE 325-5735 ANI/J1ME Just at dusk a flock of redw ing blackbirds whirls above the near-bare willow then drops to roost for a moment in its branches. Red wing bars faded to a rusty brown but voices, still bright, tumbling together like clear water over rounded stones. (Thanksgiving ’93)
