Welcome to Jennifer Elizabeth Hall!

Tonight I'd like to post two poems and a drawing by my former student Jennifer Elizabeth Hall.  Her first poem brings spring nearer to us.

Cradle of Life

                 

In the garden at the greenhouse, by a waterfall

that dives into a pond of stones, splashes in

tiny ripples near reeds, and old fallen leaves,

under a red maple, as frogs call back and forth—

I hear baby birds chirp, above a vine-draped arbor,

from a tall tree with blossoms from tiny white buds,

that reaches to the height of the Conservatory

under solid blue day and a warm orange sun.

Up high on the side of the round white flowers,

I find the cradled bird’s nest. Within the dense tree,

a mockingbird mother with gray tipped black wings

jumps to safety in the middle of the tree, to observe me

with curious gold eyes, glowers and sings, a warn full

reproach, and I notice the thorns, two inches and sharp,

that surround the tree. Only a small downy white

feather, caught on the end of a thorn still wavers

with the breeze, evidence of the price to breach the tree.

Careful not to prick myself on the thorns’ tips,

I feel the soft, silk spring petals, with pink tipped

filaments, sprouts from the pale green stems of this tree,

called a Hawthorn. Cradled deep, small and round,

dark fruit begins to grow. The nest of brown twigs sleeps,

quiet, embraced by the knowledge mother bird is there,

though she has not yet returned to her babies. Above

she waits, her fluffy beige underbelly and gray fan tail

patient, lest she give away their location. Soon it is time

to go, to let the mockingbird alone in its home.

As I walk away from the full tall Hawthorn, now

it appears to resemble a small hedge or bush of green

leaves, more innocuous, less formidable. I can imagine—

once this was the Tree of Eden, in the Garden, in a place

Adam and Eve took the knowledge of good and evil.

Above the shade of the thorns, the sun shines bright over

the greenhouse, just a harmless green tree beside.

Copyright 2017 by Jennifer Elizabeth Hall

A Cat with Tattoos

A cat, casually smokes a cigar,

wears calligraphy swirls in S like curls, an artful grin,

big as a house, he ignores the little drawn man, in huge

black boots with head a-spin, like a vortex to pull him in,

who waves a finger at him when he sits down on a car

he crushes, then raises a brow at, oh well, destruction

drifts off to daydreams of sand wasteland, monochromatic

thoughts of crosses and graves like stakes and the sun

drips of blood in the sky, watches like the eye of God,

and smoke flows up to the stars.

Copyright 2017 by Jennifer Elizabeth Hall

Continuing the theme of animals, Jennifer also sent me this picture of "Charlie."

Copyright 2017 by Jennifer Elizabeth Hall

Jennifer Elizabeth Hall is a poet and artist residing in Montgomery Village, Maryland. She has a passion for art, music and literature, as well as genetics and neuroscience. She has just completed a trilogy, and awaits its publication. Her poetry has appeared in Dragonfly Arts Magazine.

Although the picture on the cover is very wintry, let's start with pianist Duke Jordan's "Flight to Denmark," the country where he lived at the time: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YYDW4KXAxIc

Another of his songs is "Flight to Japan":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulpeHmuiGYQ

The other day I was listening to some Freddie Hubbard videos, so here is his "Birdlike":  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnWRV_X5bKQ

A contemporary group, the Kamasi Washington Group, performs a version of Hubbard's "Hub Caps": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8xA3voo9v4

I'll finish with Washington's version of "Cherokee" from his recent album Epic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DM9fGXHhlk