Two Poems by Sharon Lask Munson

Arizona Twilight with Friends

I arrange the cheese, set out crackers,
pour the wine.

The patio’s tiled roof gives us shade
as we watch the antics of bunnies

listen to families of quail
make their presence known
by their three-chirp call.

Our words are soft-spoken.
We share dream vacations,
real and imagined

beloved books we still own
read more than once.

We disclose the last thing
we bought online
bringing us all to laughter.

Someone shares
the color of his first car

and the magic of remembering
continues with a first pet,
first best friend, first date.

In the distance we hear
the hoo-hoo-hoo of a Great Horned Owl

his stuttering rhythm
reminding us of the reach of time.

The sky turns to shades
of rose dust and fuchsia
as it settles into darkness

and we appear in the shadows
like silhouettes: an outline, a profile,
curve of a cheek.


Wade a Little Deeper, Darling

i.

Decades later he will tell her
how difficult it was,
the two of them fly fishing together

her lines getting caught in tree branches,
snagging rocks on the bottom of rivers.

His time spent untangling,
removing fish from hooks,
retying flies to leaders.

But he was young,
in the beginnings of their marriage,
hesitant to speak.

ii.

What she had really wanted
was a smooth flat spot on a wide log,
stretches of time to listen to water
eddy around a bank,
hear the music of songbirds,

observe the sun glaring off the water
like a million stars ricocheting,
study a hatch of mayflies rising
as rainbow trout snatch them in mid air,

to marvel as she watched
her young husband cast a line,
the bend of his bamboo rod,
a horseshoe for luck

time to sit against a slate-gray pine,
letting the lazy day take shape.




Sharon Lask Munson is a retired teacher, poet, old movie enthusiast, lover of road trips, with many published poems, two chapbooks, and two full-length books of poetry. She says many things motivate her to write: a mood, a memory, the smell of cooking, burning leaves, a windy day, rain, fog, something observed or overheard, and of course, imagination. She lives and writes in Surprise, Arizona. Find her at sharonlaskmunson.com.