Promised Meteor Shower

Many years ago I witnessed a spectacular meteor shower, and have been in search of a similar experience ever since. The conditions need to be just right: late night or predawn, no clouds, and no ambient light.

I thought I had nailed it last summer at the cabin. But the timing of predawn darkness in the northland differs from that farther south.

As an aside, I will be traveling the first two weeks of August, so my blog will contain no new entries until the middle of the month.



Promised Meteor Shower


The best seat dockside:
an hour before sunrise or so it's written
         by someone in southern latitudes.

My laughing alarm pushed me
           into the far north predawn, lucent enough
                            to mask the faintest of fireballs.

Steam drifted off the water;
             the mirrored lake beckoned me to stay
                            but, bent on a firecracker sky,

I sulked away.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Medical School in Mid-Life

I recently received an invitation to attend the 30th reunion of my graduation from medical school. If I had done it in the usual time frame, it would be closer to a 45 year celebration.

True to form, I chose the hard way: in my 30s and with a half-grown family. It proved to be a very intense four years.



Medical School in Mid-Life


Master the facts crowding your head.
Fold the laundry, humor your spouse,
But never leave a page of text unread.

Groceries to buy, exams to dread,
And a waste of breath to grouse.
Simply master the facts storming your head.

Vacuum the floors, make the bed,
Find time for a movie, dropkick the doubts,
And nevermore leave biochem unread

But no casual scanning. Instead
When handed a memory aid - pounce!
Master the facts leaking from your head.

Chauffeur the kids, keep everyone fed,
And do not forget to iron your blouse
Nor leave a single assignment unread.

Family time dwindling, wrested
By med school, that blasted powerhouse.
Just master the facts crammed in your head,
And don't leave "Saving a Marriage" unread.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Seventh Heaven

I wrote this poem a year ago. It speaks for itself and all the wonders of a nighttime sky in the north woods.



Seventh Heaven


In wildwood clearings I linger
on the dock of midnight,
circle under the marvel of stars.
The summer sky shifts

the view I witness in winter
when Ursa Major rides low
but tonight somersaults higher
in the heavens of July.

And from his father's arms
Ursa Minor, tossed upwards
like a laughing child,
dangles the North Star on a string.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Tempest

The abundance of trees and lakes here in the Cities provides habitat for a wide diversity of birds. I watch herons fly between ponds and wooded areas on a daily basis, listen to any number of warblers early mornings, and, just yesterday, stood beneath an osprey gliding on thermals high above the street.

When I wrote this poem I was keeping track of a blue heron nesting on our lake in Wisconsin, but the sentiment applies equally well here.



Tempest


Where does the heron hide
when rain slashes the lake
and lightening fissures the sky?

Does she dash inside, secure
the windows, check the door, fiddle
with a flashlight, watch it pour?

And when the wind rakes the woods,
sends pine needles flying,
does her heart beat hard like mine
when hailstones strike?

Or does she shelter in a thicket,
feathers tucked tight, unperturbed
by sheets of rain and the pounding
roar of its refrain?



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor

Advantage: Sun

We suffered through a brief hot spell this past week, and the humidity only intensified it. To those who live in the desert Southwest unrelenting heat is a way of life. But each summer stretches a bit longer, and even dry heat can suffocate.



Advantage: Sun


Eggs over hard
fry on an Arizona tarmac, tacky
from weather too hot for pilots or planes.

Outside a Vegas casino
flamingos cluster under mist sprayers
as temps edge toward 120 degrees,
the winning number for an indoor reprieve.

To the west of Phoenix
train tracks soften, spark as railcars slip.

And to the east
a dust storm blindfolds a major highway.
Jackknifed semis and crushed cars
enmesh like a complex Erector Set.

The Sonoran desert keeps raising
the ante, holds every ace
in this high stakes game
brazenly dealt by human hands.



Marilyn Aschoff Mellor