On the Seashore

  Here's a poem published in the 2006 Tickled by Thunder Poetry contest, where I was delighted to learn that my poem took second place. Simply titled: On the Seashore   the window pane frames waves washing the sand if she tilts her head       just right the tattered flag at the lighthouse flutters                            in the next square   far-away sailboats are toys                          in the top square   but she must go out              let the wind run its fingers through her hair   gathering her long skirt     in slender hands she runs                   barefoot   warm sand catches each footfall   her copper curls stretch   and bob and the wind brushes her face with a passing kiss      Carolyn Wilker Second Place, Tickled by Thunder 2006 Poetry Contest, published in Vol. 16, No. 37


I sat in my car that day waiting for the rain to lighten just a little before rushing into my Toastmasters meeting. Watching people hurry from the building, their umbrellas barely holding up to the downpour, I noticed what a heavy rainfall does and imagined the rest. Some images stay with us a while. Finally, it rains A cloud bursts its liquid load large drops pat a pat on my car roof   splat and slide        down the windshield slope             where dutiful wipers whisk them away                   to bounce off window ledges                         dance on the hood   a car wash without the suds   rain runs …                    a stream against the curb and parched earth           slurps up long-awaited moisture   Carolyn Wilker Tower Poetry Summer Edition 2006 Vol. 55   No. 1

From the Tractor Seat

During April, I pictured farmers out in the fields preparing them for spring planting, and of course remembering working the land on our family farm. Now that it's May, planting will soon begin. When I was old enough to learn, Dad taught me to drive the tractor, starting with the smallest Farmall, and from then I drove the tractor to bring a load of hay or straw to the driveshed and I'd driven it  to scuffle the fields, breaking up the soil into smaller chunks after the ploughing was done. Then one day, Dad asked if I'd like to try ploughing. That was with the bigger tractor, and I did. Dad rode on the tractor with me for a round or two to make sure I knew what to do at the headlands and along the rows. Somewhat of a dreamer, I had to pay close attention to the driving and turning for a plough attached to a tractor is a curious thing and a tractor can tip if turned too tight. I made quite a few rounds until Dad checked on how I was doing, and  I decided that was enoug