The Doe

On a warm evening, walking the dog
near the pasture, I saw an unusual event
unfold in the distance: 
a doe and fawn, chased by a coyote;
in an effort to keep up with
its mother, running for her life,
the fawn fell.
The coyote approached the injured fawn.
my dog, free from my grip, dashed to 
the predator, howling; the coyote fled. 
To examine the injured one, I got closer,
and it limped away to its mom
watching us from afar.
When the young buck with the limp leg,
excluded by his group,
the doe joined him walking in the night,
foraged together in the pasture or in my yard.
The doe and the buck with the crippled back leg
and lovely antlers; the nightly visitors,
now, enjoy midnight snack on
the leaves of my apple tree. The buck,
his antlers reaching for the moon, his mouth
to the apple; an art of nature.
As I watch them in the moonlight, in awe 
for her motherly love, tear wells in my eyes. 
How long? She doesn't care; just live in the
momentary joy.  But she knows instinctively 
that her care for her son in the season will pay off;
her son is well nourished and fat for the winter.
The night stealthily moves on, and they trot off
into the light of dawn. 

©Byung A. Fallgren  

 This piece was published in The Avocet, a Journal of Nature Poetry,
Summer--2022.  Thank you, Charles and Vivian for taking this poem. 

Stranger Things at the House

With her absence, supposedly will return in weeks,

I could not help but notice things pique my curiosity;

seen through the door ajar, the bow and arrow

laid across the bed. I'd rather not ask the son
about it, lest he got mad for snooping.
It could be the symbol of his or her fidelity
or even a little religious gesture; or maybe he is
preparing for a hunting trip, who knows.

While in the laundry room, items, like photos
in the frames, tucked in the corner, collecting dusts.

Don't they deserve the better place to be stored? But,
this time, too, I choose to remain silent,
thinking: little squabble, a religious act or just forgot
about them, and so forth.

For whatever it may be, I'd imagine for a healthy tree
than the withering flowers;

our lives are full of shades and lights;
like mountain and valley or rich and poor;
I'd think light and then add more hues.
 

©Byung A. Fallgren

i love you to the moon
 Chen Chen

not back, let's not come back, let's go by the speed of
queer zest & stay up
there & get ourselves a little
moon cottage (so pretty), then start a moon garden

with lots of moon vegies (so healthy), i mean 
i was already moon lighting
as an online monologist 
most weekends, so this is the immensely

logical next step, are you 
packing your bags yet, don't forget your 
sailor moon jean jackets while twirling in that lighter, 
queer moon gravity, let's love each other
(so good) on the moon, let's love
the moon
on the moon

Chen Chen is the author of When grow up I want to be a 
List of Further Possibilities (BOA Editions, 2017).    

Palimpsest 

Of all the good trails,
i chose the muddy one
that injured the bone;

the pain, the passing years 
haven't erased it;
cloudy days it still pulsates.

wrinkled spirit, no cream 
can smooth it; like grumpy 
old friend, still there. but,

why do you bother to delete it at all?
Let it all fall to the sky of time.
or, i would be born new in the sea;
be a sister of the waves. 

©Byung A. Fallgren


  

The boy with behavioral problem, young tree with a plague

One day, a boy came to America to join his mom, half-brother, 
and the stepdad. Today, he is going back to his country overseas.
After arguing with her son for years on his behavior,

his mom has decided to send him to a boarding school in his country.
his dad would provide him with the best one.
good for him for sure.

When a child doesn't do well at school, academically and socially,
we prone to point at the parents. In some cases, parents deserve it,
some don't. Some children don't behave well, despite their parents'
effort to provide them with the best upbringing. Habitually, evading
homework, fighting with classmates, etc. can be a sign of bigger
problem in the future if ignored.

early intervention is necessary to steer him
in the right track.

So far, everyone supports his mom's plan for her son;
he has gotten what he needs to grow well,
like young tree with plague. Wish him the best.

Good roots and leaves make a healthy tree. 

©Byung A. Fallgren

  

mid-June aroma
of lilac with fading blooms
midnight muse

cottonwood seeds
settle in an abandoned pot
nearsighted plan

a wasp flew in and out
of the window, teasing the tomcat  
a dead wasp on the floor

bird eggs 
in the pot won't grow into plants
whimsical politics

©Byung A. Fallgren

Mommy's Boy

for she's the one who gave you birth.
No one blames for that.

But do not confuse your wife with 
a housekeeper and nanny.
She is a mother of your child.
she deserves some respect. 

Please, do not ignore her and discuss family matter 
with your mom: when that happens habitually, and
you call her unimaginable names when she points out
your wrongdoing, you've got a serious problem;
a male wasp with wayward wings;
an emotionally crippled son of a bitch. 

But you don't want to get a therapy, nor divorce;
you totally ignore how she feels;
yet she stays in marriage for the sake of the child,
embracing her bruised heart and pride, accepting 
your sickness.
she cries like a poet, silent lament
for you, twisted soul.
Respect your wife for the sake of your beloved child
as well. your shame knows.   Grow up.

©Byung A. Fallgren 

Spring Pasture

She greets the old cowboy
who shares tears and joys,
loves her as the cows love
the grass beneath the deep snow.

The haystack grows low, as the days near
the spring; she embraces the blue, seeing 
the cowboy moves his cows to
the high country, where the 
blueberries bloom.

She dons purple dress,
put on a spring perfume,
greets the doe and fawn.

The old cowboy plans for
the first harvest of hay,
forgetting yesterday's sorrow
of Wife perished of the COVID.

She cheers him, wishes for 
the grass grow slow;
blossoms stay longer.
She enjoys May's gentle touch 
a bit better than the passion of July.

She loves all the ups and sillies of spring.

(This piece is one of my six poems appeared 
in the Weekly Avocet #491, May 1st, 2022.)

--Byung A. Fallgren


 

My three poems appear in the Weekly Avocet--#497. 
Thank you, Charles, Vivian, for taking these pieces. 

She'll be smarter, just like us
              For my granddaughter

On a spring day, a couple of robins
decide to build a nest, by the fake owl
whose duty is to scare away woodpeckers
drilling holes in the wall.

What is in the bird-mind? Let the owl babysit
their chicks; smarter than John on the street.

They sing joyfully when the three chicks 
emerged from the eggs; tell the owl to watch
their precious ones, while they search worms.

One night, an owl falls in love with the fake one,
then realizes he is wrong. But he finds the serendipity.
the three chicks in the nest.

The following day, the robins notice the empty nest.
In fury, she swoops over the cat scared and run away.

O-ho-ho, she laughs at the coward cat.
Sitting on the post, she grieves her lost chicks,
then flies away. Time to rebuild a new nest.
This time she will be smarter; just like us.

©Byung A. Fallgren