Tender Willow, for MVB prompt.

30 Replies

This is a poem written the year I moved to Lake Chapala, 23  years ago. Every day for two years, I walked on land that had formerly been lake. There were acres of willow that I later learned townspeople were hired to clear before Semana Santa, when hordes of tourists from Guadalajara always descended. I was there to cut willow to make lamps. When the lake came up to its former banks a few years later, all of those willows, that grew back yearly, were destroyed. Only their bones now stick up when the lake recedes a bit again every year. They make perfect roosting places for birds. I rarely walk on the lakeside anymore. The lake has remained high enough so all of my former walking places are under water. Instead, I stay home and write poems and post blogs. This year for the first time, due to the fact that up until the past two days, we have been largely rainless, the lake is down to 40 percent of its capacity—down so far that i would be able to walk on that same land, but now it is dry lakebed. No tender willow.

Tender Willow

They gather in circles as the day ends.
Men sit in one circle, closer to the lake.
Women, still standing, cluster laughing around a ribald tale.
They’ve been cutting old willow, then burning it for weeks to clear the mud flats.
Now new willow, red-veined with opalescent skin, springs up from the graves of the old.
The teeth of slender leaves cup up to catch the far-off whirr of rain bugs in the hills.
Every night louder, their repetitious whirr is as annoying
as the temperature, which  grows hotter every day.

The birds all seek their evening perches—
night heron on the fence post in the water,
blackbirds in orderly evening strings,
swallows in frenzied swooping snarls.
A young girl lies on her back in the short cool grass
that in the past few weeks has sprung from the cracked mud.
With her baby in arms, she rolls over to face the red sun and in her journey,
sees the ones from her pueblo who burn off last year’s growth.

Sees also the gringa who cuts the tender willow.
She is an interloper who watches birds, and as she watches,
is watched—the bright colors of her clothes drawing eyes.
She is the one for whom being a foreigner isn’t enough—
an ibis among herons, a cuckoo among blackbirds,
Now and then, all flock here.

As mother with child  stands to go,
the willow cutter, too, straightens her back
and trudges heavy, arms filled with willow,
toward her car far up the beach.
As  sun like a cauldron  steams into the hill,
horses stream smoothly back to claim their turf,
and the other willow cutters circle longer, telling stories, moving slow.
Children run races with the night as sure as new willows
grow stubbornly from the ground of parents
uprooted, but victorious.

Today’s MVB prompt is “Tender” Image from Unsplash

30 thoughts on “Tender Willow, for MVB prompt.”

  1. anntonyjandc's avataranntonyjandc

    Judy. You are a genius. This gorgeous poem has so much in it… Different people. Different principles, a togetherness nevertheless, in the gathering of a willow harvest. Your every word a stunner. I am deeply thrilled to be your friend. Ann

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply ↓
    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      Thanks Ann. I am thrilled that you enjoy my poetry and to still be in touch after all these years. 50 years this year!!!! Actually, more, as I met you at a party at Patti’s when I was still in college. That makes it 54 years. Seems impossible.

      Like

      Reply ↓
      1. Unknown's avatarAnn Garcia

        I so love it that you hang on to old friends. You never give up on love, do you?

        I wish I had time to communicate more with you.

        When I was a kid, I had a couple of pen pals and remember saying to my folks, “I wish I could write to everyone in the whole wide world.”

        Now I can. And I do as much as I can. At 84 it’s getting harder to keep up. I have many new friends made on FB and Instagram. One of these new ones is dying and I’m trying to write her a letter a day. She finally got hospice. For a while there, she was alone in her debilitating pain.

        I’m making excuses. Yes, I am.

        I sent my newest (and last) novel to Margaret and to Sheryl of Cheyenne. They wanted me to proof it and send it. My computer is a mess and my chapters are not under one file. I get a D minus on computer. Because of that, I won’t be trying to publish.

        But that’s okay.

        Everything’s gotta be okay because I am too old to want to fight it.

        I want to enjoy life and not worry about computers. They are my biggest worry.

        Love you lots. I am amazed by what you’re able to do. Keep it up. Ann

        Like

        Reply ↓
    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      Janet, it was from Unsplash. I couldn’t for the life of me find one I’d taken. I think I was still taking prints with my regular Canon camera back then.

      Like

      Reply ↓
  4. Ana Daksina's avatarAna Daksina

    I think it was not so much the colorfulness of your clothing ~ they have more color in their lives than we do in ours ~ as its crispy, uncrumpled, unfaded newness. Here, the moment that wears off it’s time to send it to a garbage pile in India and manufacture (and buy) a new one!…

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply ↓
      1. Ana Daksina's avatarAna Daksina

        That’s you and me both! Recently I actually sewed one skirt inside another, to support the one falling apart, which I just couldn’t give up yet.

        My mistake ~ I had the impression that this poem was set long ago, when you first arrived there, and things might have been different.

        Like

        Reply ↓
        1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

          Yes it was.. 22 or 23 years ago. But I found that although the traditional clothing was bright and colorful, as were the houses and handicrafts, that day-to-day work clothes were more subdued and it was the foreigners wearing all the bright clothes they had purchased in the mercado.

          Liked by 1 person

          Reply ↓
        2. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

          I have recently taken a number of the manta blouses I bought 20 years ago that have totally ripped out along the seams back to the place where they were made to have new ones made exactly like them. Their fashions have changed but i still love those exact patterns and fabrics.

          Liked by 1 person

          Reply ↓
  6. SAM VOELKER's avatarSAM VOELKER

    “You can’t go home again~!” I remember that area from back in the 1950’s. Back then Guadalajara and the Jalisco area including the beautiful Lago de Chapala, backed by venues of tree-studded mountains spotted only by an occasional “finca”. This was a spot where I liked to stop for a few days on my trips from my work life in Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, and Guatemala, There may have been a few “expatriates” there back then, but if they were, I did not notice them. I am also sure that the people, customs, and the area was already becoming “modernized” from its Colonial Days past”.

    It is my desire to go back again, but what will if find~? I know that it will not be the same. Maybe many things are better, Americanized~! Modernized, I know it will not be the sleepy little area I knew back then. Other places I have revisited I find the streams where I fished now only dry mud holes, and venues ruined. Old Spanish Era buildings and old hotels, once historical works of beauty turned into modern Comfort spot “Motels” for tourists who decided the old buildings were too uncomfortable. Fast cars replace Ox carts, and huge Convenience stores block the scenery.

    I find such things sad, in my memory of what is now gone, and I am upset as I lie in comfort and remember times past. Now they are often only making an effort to put on a show of “tipico” for the tourists. But I do remember the Senoritas going in groups of two or three, parading on foot around the central park square counterclockwise, in their bright Sunday Best, saying: ‘H-o-l-a’ or ‘A-d-i-o-s”, stretching the word out in relation to their opinion of you and if they really liked what they saw of you, placing their right index finger below their right eye to let you know~!

    I am sure that I too am not the young man of the world that I was back then, I too have changed a lot, and the smile on my face of back then is now only one of very fine memories, or maybe the pain in my legs from the degradation of years gone by while the Senoritas are driving, alone, in fast cars, dressed in “Levis” and not even a wave, as they whiz by too busy to even notice an old man like me.

    SAM

    Like

    Reply ↓
    1. lifelessons's avatarlifelessons Post author

      They were still doing the plaza promenades when I first moved here==boys walking in one direction, girls in the other. And boys and girl in twos with an auntie following along as a chaperone. No more, however

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply ↓
      1. SAM VOELKER's avatarSAM VOELKER

        Oh memories, of the Chaperone especially, I took them with mixed emotion. She followed us about ten feet behind and sat in a seat behind you at the theater. You were supposed to ignore the fact that she was there. I always felt that if she had “participated” in the “date” it would have been much more pleasant for all three of us.. but she was there to protect the “reputation” of the young girl and I was supposed to ignore the fact that she was there~!

        I need to write about the time that I was “kicked out of society” by the young girls, God, and a mistake I made in one of those small towns.

        There was also one occasion where a brother of girl I was daiting invited me out to the Plaza del Toros. After the bull fight we went to have thick beef stake from the bull that had been killed, then he wanted to take me to the casa de putas~! When inquired about this I was told that it was to take care of my Maleness to save the reputation of his sister.

        I thought the promenades a rather pleasant tradition with the boys going one direction and the young girls going the other. Sometimes stopping to talk but mostly with that greeting I explained.

        As I said times have changed, both in Tradition and with my ability to enjoy such a nice, beautiful, safe way of life. And those memories make me smile~! With the tradition of such things back home too, such as mixed sex housing in College; we had no such things either. And I often think that we actually enjoyed our more relaxed love life back then, but did not realize it.

        I was once at a dance in a very small village in the Jungles of Colombia. The girls were sitting on benches around the perimeter of the open grass thatched pergola. It was a rather cool night and I was impressed when I noticed that each girl has an upper wrap which exactly matching those beautiful full dresses they were wearing. Then on closer observation I realized that they never sit on those full billowing dresses, (it would almost be impossible), and in this case they actually take them up and over, from behind, wrapping them around to keep their arms warm.

        Another thing I observed was there was always the peace keeping official at those dances who would keep the peace by attaching any “trouble maker” who had too much to drink, to the center post of the pergola by one of his his legs. It was an unusual an added pleasure of the dancers to dance near the culprit who would then try to grab out at them. An added pleasure to the “cumbia, merengue, and merecumbe dance. Another fine memory~!

        Like

        Reply ↓
          1. SAM VOELKER's avatarSAM VOELKER

            I will see what I can do with it, re: background,

            As to your previous reply, No I had no problem dating the ladies, “Senoritas”, in the many places I lived. I had long learned to date them as an aid to learning their language, trying to be a perfect gentleman.

            You may understand, as in Mexico, Spanish may be the base language but wherever I went, in a Spanish or other Latin speaking country, the dialects differed a lot. Some words, phrases, or colloquialism can get you into trouble. A few mutual dates with a young lady was always a win/win situation, they were anxious to learn English and I was anxious to learn their language or dialect. Even the music, back then differed a lot too. I named off several in my previous reply. (the dancing, to me, was more of bouncing up and down to the beat of that music though~! Check it out: Cha-Cha-Cha vs Bolero etc~!

            One other thing that you must see there in Mexico. In the strict “cast system” you go from Senorita, through Soldadera to Putas. Mostly I dated American School teachers if there were any around, and the natives I dated were Senoritas, but I enjoyed drinking aguardiente with Soldaderas who were always very interesting and actually better company than a lot of B-girls I met in the United States and other places. I will not discuss Putas which in most countries are government controlled in walled communities with little one room huts and a guard at the gate. Works very well for the most part in keeping the peace~!

            I did have that one sad problem in the Villege of Cerete Colombia which I am sure I have written about but I can’t find. It tells about being kicked out of society of the Senoritas by an act of God~! And is kind of funny~!

            Like

            Reply ↓
            2. SAM VOELKER's avatarSAM VOELKER

              Ha, the only other thing I have “to keep me out of trouble is that Series “YOUNG SHELDON” Right now his brother got a girl pregnant and she is 10 years older than he is. His brother and his grandmother have been thrown into jail at the Mexican Border trying to smuggle in cigarettes to raise money either for her or for an abortion, (don’t know which yet) But the people of the Baptist Church found out about the pregnant lady and so his Holy Roller mother has gotten the bigotry treatment and lost her job at the church. I TOLD YOU THAT IT WAS JUST LIKE LIFE IN EAST TEXAS, I never watch serial shows, but this one has me SINNING like an east Texas Baptist. (All of this has happened more or less in one 30 minute episode, a lot of fun~!

              East Texas is the southern end of “The Bible Belt” and it runs up through Eastern Oklahoma, Arkansas, Missouri, to the Carolina s. I have worked in all of those places except on the East Coast so have met some of this type along the way, that may be why I find it entertaining. Ha~!

              Like

Leave a reply to SAM VOELKER Cancel reply