Ann Spiers

Vashon Island, WA

Ann Spiers’ inspiration includes both sides of the Cascades. Her great grandmother settled on the Little Spokane River; her grandfather whaled out of Westport; her grandmother taught  in one-room schoolhouses; her mother fled from Montesano to Seattle in WWII to avoid marrying a stump rancher; her father spent the war as a radioman off the Aleutians. Ann fled Seattle’s Capitol Hill to love a geologist and hike the Cascade volcanoes, surviving Mt St. Helens’ eruption and memorizing Mt. Rainier; raised two boys down Vashon Island’s Bunker Trail in a beach cabin; and honored as Vashon’s inaugural Poet Laureate.

Ann Spiers

sun, thin garden
I remember

peas in a pod
my dad’s garden
I crack the pod
one pea imperfect
a green worm
pokes out its head
black pin-pricks for eyes

the pea is tastier
given the bad worm
life is swell
what I’ve come to know
free peas grow from a seed
my mother said No good. Wormy

my dad’s climbing roses
yellow orange like skirts
of cha-cha dancers
swirling, lots of clacking
my mom said They go blowsy
roses blossoming untidily

my dad cut a start
stuck its wounded end
into a potato
his mother
did that coming west
this very rose

up my fence here
his rose climbs
petals flat to the sun
insides sticky
bumble bees hot at the pollen
bug and flower free for all.

© 2019 by Cascadia Rising Review

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