Margaret Ryan
Cath Mason
Kathy Winarski
Full Circle
— Margaret Ryan
After At the Seaside, William Merritt Chase, 1892, oil on canvas
Snowmelt, returning to the ocean
when spring makes way for summer,
finds a ragged bit of abalone shell,
polishes it down to an iridescent sliver
just light enough to be taken up
by the undercurrent. The token finds
its way to the hightide line, where it
comes to rest just inside the arched dome
of an abandoned scallop shell. A miniature fresco now,
tailor-made by endless snowmelt.
After the storm, a game of pick-up sticks,
bare branches of live oaks carpet the concrete.
Our clean-up, a warm-up, before the heavy lifting,
requiring the deeper notes of a saw.
We tackle the larger twigs with a rake,
using muscles no longer attuned to the task.
A mockingbird berserks a chorus of tweets,
a parody of sound, from its leafy mezzanine:
a door hinge’s squeak, a ringtone’s reverb,
a jingle rifted from a show eavesdropped upon
from the bare latticed limbs of the star jasmine tree.
The song strangely altered, realigned,
into a daisy chain of unintended consequences,
with the notion that intermission is merely prelude.
The bird’s a cappella a fine accompaniment to our
unpracticed progress in the concert hall of mind.
And so we go, back to tidying up,
picking up the pieces of our altered world,
as the birds twitter on, chirping a Greek chorus
of grace notes from memory.
The Queen’s Swans, September on the Thames
— Cath Mason
Oh to feel such ease
as this man sitting on the Thames’ sandy shore
in the middle of nine Mute swans.
—which are the cobs and which are the pens?
all look so similar in size, which is to say, huge—
each Mute long as a queen mattress is wide.
He is dressed in black. They surround him with whiteness.
Curved like a comma, he seems to be singing softly.
One swan moves closer, no hint of aggression.
Am I inventing the pieces of bread,
the smaller swan who lifts one from his fingers?
These swans do not busk, do not extend their necks or spread wide
their wings thickened with bony spurs, with spikes.
These swans waterproof their feathers with preen oil, fluff them.
These swans tuck heads under wings, balance on a single leg.
Black speck of a man safe in swan whiteness.
The Witch in the Attic
— Kathy Winarski
We don’t talk much anymore.
She will, though, knock on the window.
Or bang on the attic door.
Anything to get my attention.
She was always my go to.
We’d lob flaming words at friend or foe.
Dagger looks at phonies.
She was so very righteous.
I’ll notice her occasionally.
Peering through the glass,
She’ll point out my high horse,
Suggest we take a ride.
I am tempted sometimes.
We could fly on broomsticks.
Soar over green fields of old grievances,
So high. So mighty.
No.
No broomsticks. No magic spells.
As I nail the attic door shut
She blows me a kiss.
Margaret Ryan has taken many OLLI-USF courses over the last several years including classes in history, science, politics, short stories, poetry, and travel. She wrote her first haiku in high school, then went decades where most of the writing she did was work-related and technical. She rediscovered her interest in fiction and verse after taking an imaginative writing class and a poetry seminar through OLLI-USF. She especially enjoys composing ekphrastic poetry.
Cath Mason has published poems in U.K. and U.S. journals. In April 2023 and April 2024, her ekphrastic poems “Explore Mystery” and “The Wounding” appeared alongside artwork at The Beach Arts Center in Indian Rocks as part of the Poetry in Motion show. Cath facilitates OLLI’s monthly Write Time for Poets SIG and a monthly poetry discussion group. Each Fall she co-teaches an OLLI class with Bob Strozier on poems from the New Yorker.
Kathy Winarski, a retired college administrator, has written for the trade journal College&University. Her essay on Neil Jordan’s film The Miracle, was included in Contemporary Irish Cinema. She has taken many OLLI courses in poetry, literature, art, architecture, music, history and science. As a member of the Write Time for Poets SIG, she is now focused on studying and writing poetry. Her poem “The Bastard Son’s Daughter was published in the poetry journal, Slipstream.
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