Wandering in Woodacre – 14 July 2021

Contemporary British Art – Angie Wright

Below – “Sweet Cassia”; “In to the Forest” (diptych); “Storm Bringer” (diptych); “Hanami”; “Water Dragons” (on two panels); “The Lavender Patch” (diptych).

A Poem for Today

“Post Office”
by Ted Kooser

The wall of identical boxes into which
our Aunt Sticky sorted the daily mail
was at the far end of her dining room,
and from the private side looked like
a fancy wallpaper upon which peonies
pushed through a white wooden trellis,
or sometimes like crates of chickens
stacked all the way to the ceiling.
I’d learned by then – I was a little boy –
that a thing can look like one thing
on one day and another on another,
depending on how you might be feeling.
There were times when we were there,
having our coffee and sweet rolls,
when some woman on the lobby side
would with a click unlock her box
and leaning down, peer inside to see
if she had mail, and see us at the table,
Mother and Father, my sister and I
and our postmistress aunt, and call out,
“Yoohoo, Sticky! I see you have company!”
and waggle her fingers, waving hello.

Contemporary Ghanan Art- Theophilus Tetteh

Below – “Thoughtful but not dull”; “In love with my man”; “Ready to mingle”; “My Mother, My Hero I”; “The ‘SHE’ identity”; “After Valentine I.”

A Poem for Today

“Sleeping With the Chihuahua”
by Tami Hoagland

In the evening she comes to me
like a child ready for bed.
She slips under covers, curls
into my curves or stretches against
my spine. Some have said they fear
I might crush her, but we’re a tender
pair, each aware of the warmth
and the other.

I knew a woman once who kept
an orphaned antelope, let it
roam her kitchen, sleep in her bed,
musky scent and hooves.

This dog looks like a small deer,
poised and silent in the lawn,
but at night, she is a dark body, lean
and long against the lavender cotton
of my summer sleeping. We are bone
and bone, muscle and muscle,
and underneath each surface
a quiet and insistent pulse.

Contemporary Canadian Art – Margit Hideg

Below – “Journey 626”; “Journey 700”; “Journey 809”; “Journey 625”; “Journey 233”; “Journey 153,”

A Poem for Today

“No Encore”
by Betty Adcock

I’m just an assistant with the Vanishing Act.
My spangled wand points out the disappeared.
It’s only a poor thing made of words, and lacks
the illusive power to light the darkling year.

Not prophecy, not elegy, but fact:
the thing that’s gone is never coming back.

Late or soon a guttering silence will ring down
a curtain like woven smoke on thickening air.
The audience will strain to see what’s there,
the old magician nowhere to be found.

For now, I wear a costume and dance obliquely.
The applause you hear is not for me, its rabid sound
like angry rain—as one by one the known forms cease to be:
childhood, the farm, the river, forested ground;
the tiger and the condor, the whale, the honeybee;
the village, the book, the lantern. Then you. Then me.

Below – Sonja Zugic: “Disappearing” (photograph)

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