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Fog hovers. Birds sing.

July 21, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 9 Comments

Foggy Lake Morning

Fog hovers above the lake

and moves along the shore

like a live thing.

In the distance,

the docks are barely visible,

ghostly even.

The oak trees beyond my porch

sit motionless,

watching for the sun.

A cool morning in July

feels as rare as this spot

hidden in the Ozark Mountains.

The birds sing a thousand songs

as everyone sleeps.

 

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Danny Wright – White Lyte

 

Crop Dusters, Porch Swings and Home

June 23, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 9 Comments

Arkansas…

sister-cousins

sister-cousins

Sunrise

over rice fields,

crop dusters soar and dip,

cousins down the road, memories,

sunsets.

Texas…

porch swing days - Munger Place, Dallas

porch swing days

Porch swing

days, early blooms,

margaritas and Mavs,

cowboys and music, neighbors who

gather.

 

Grace Grits and Gardening

Farm. Food. Garden. Life.

Musical Pairing:

Back Down South, Kings of Leon

Describe the Air

April 6, 2014 By Talya Tate Boerner 32 Comments

Describe the air, he says.

Don’t think about it, just start

writing. Whatever comes to mind.

Air? She mumbles the word and stares

at him or at least he thinks she is staring at him

but really she is looking at the clock on the wall

just above his shoulder. From her spot in the classroom

the clock appears to be perched near his ear

which strikes her as funny. Not haha funny

but crazy funny. Like describing air.

He paces in front of his desk then stops

and repeats himself like he is prone to do.

Just whatever comes to mind, the way air feels, he says, drawing

out the word f-e-e-e-e-l-s.

She doesn’t know how to describe air. She doesn’t

belong in this class or this school or this place or this

life.

This uncomfortable life.

The classroom is filled with sounds

of scribbling. Pen to paper. Thoughts spill

and pens move effortlessly, yet she sits frozen.

Immobile.

He walks to her desk.

He stares.

He snatches her blank notebook paper.

Her pen bounces to the floor

and hides beneath her desk.

Nothing, he says.

That’s how the air feels to me, she whispers.

He stares. She watches the clock.

schoolhouse clock

 

Grace Grits and Gardening

April is National Poetry Month. Although Air is not written in the style of a traditional poem (and I do not profess to be a poet, heaven’s no), I do enjoy writing poefictiontry which Carve Magazine describes simply as poetry that tells a story or flash fiction that sounds lyrical. 

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Hi! I'm Talya Tate Boerner. Writer, Reader, Arkansas Master Naturalist / Master Gardener, Author of

THE ACCIDENTAL SALVATION OF GRACIE LEE (2016)

GENE, EVERYWHERE: a life-changing visit from my father-in-law (2020)

BERNICE RUNS AWAY (Now Available!)

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