Mary Jo Balisteri and Winter in Wisconsin

In a few days, I will be posting photographs and poems from the Yucatan, but tonight I'd like to show you Mary Jo Balistreri's winter poems.  When Mary Jo had sent me these poems, we were on track for a snowless winter in Maryland, but since then....Snowzilla has come and gone.  In the meantime, here are some winter poems for you to enjoy.

One Wisconsin Winter Morning

He opens the curtains

to trees, alabaster sculptures in a garden of white.

In the bone chill of zero, the scouring powder of snow

erases edges, transforms lake and land to a snow-filled stage.

Stillness outside. In the white room, a hush

where his daughter lies blanketed, and will soon breath

one last time. This morning the snow-covered branches

resemble a cemetery,

as though angel arms hover over slabs and monuments.

In the frozen silence, he listens for sound, any sound.

He hears only his own ragged breath

clouding the window.

Wisconsin Drenched in Winter Quietude

Late in the day, early December, a sheen of luminosity

like the varnish on a Dutch landscape offers silver instead of gold.

The sun, turned cold, replaces autumn’s honey-thick amber

with a pearl large and lustrous.  

Cloud banks along the horizon construct snow-cappped

castles in opal iridescence, their buoyancy reflected

in the pond. Slate-grey silhouettes of hickory and oak,

their shivering leaves shake frosty air.

Silence stirs under flannel skies and snow

flurries in the argenté air.

Pillows of purest white nestle in bare limbs,

land on red mittens.

Children want a taste and offer their tongues.

Feeling the lightness,

they swallow melted stars

in the new community of winter.

Layered in Winter

            Washington Park, Milwaukee, WI

I

Muffled in mittens, snowsuits and scarfs,

with skates tied and flung over shoulders,

we headed for the neighborhood rink—

smoke, pine, ozone-fresh air.

By the time the swirling smell of hot chocolate and music

from the loud speaker reached us, we were belting out 

Wake Up Little Susie right along with the Everly Brothers.

Snippets of chatter and laughter swallowed our voices

as we elbowed our way through the crowd of kids

going to, coming from the warming house. The potbelly stove

tossed a blast of heat at the cold we carried.

On long narrow benches, we squeezed together, bodies bent

nearly double. We peeled off boots and tightened laces,

were already dashes of sliver speeding across ice.

We’d play “crack the whip” or “I send,” show off, skate

backwards, or spin one-legged arabesques, ice chips and crusts

of snow flying when we missed and slid on our bottoms.

Risk was everything.

II

As we grew older, Washington Park was a fever—

Friday night dates, moonlight and lanterns, Skaters Waltz,

Chances are, and Don’t forbid me.

It was holding hands, arms around each other,

that first trembling kiss.

Years later, Elvis is wood smoke, and wet wool,  

a cold sweep of winter that unlatches

memory’s trunk.

Lost parts of us glide near, and we reclaim

silver blades under stars, images of runes etched

on ice, our first love raised from the dead,

the kiss ever moist on our lips.

We were the air, and everything,

everything was possible. 

-----------------------

This evening Angelee Deodhar sent me some haiga and haibun that she has created from Mary Jo's words.  All three of us would like to share them with you.

I've been playing a lot of older jazz lately, so I'd like to play some newer artists now.  Let's start with Gerald Clayton's "All The Things You Are":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AQAgXiOijlY

Here is his "Peace for the Moment": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yK0eDZmO0Dg

As sunny winter days are colder days, I'll finish with his "Sunny Day Go":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5w-dhh2YZQ

I am going to add the Andrews Sisters' medley that Angelee has found.  The Andrews Sisters are among the many musicians born in the 1910s.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E438ZsGIKrQ

Enjoy!