Invitation to Poetry reading with Maya Spector Saturday, July 23

[Larry Robinson]

You are cordially invited to join us for the first of monthly series of virtual poetry readings beginning with Maya Spector
Saturday, July 23 from 10:00 to 10:30 AM PST.

There is no charge for this event and no need to pre-register, just click this link:  https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89802520728?pwd=Y01La2g2bVJ6bzhlOVROMnFqZW9lUT09 <https://us02web.zoom.us/j/89802520728?pwd=Y01La2g2bVJ6bzhlOVROMnFqZW9lUT09>
and enter the passcode: 978901



Maya Spector lives in Oakland, CA.  She is a retired children’s librarian, the mother of two sons, grandmother of three girls and the author of a book of poetry, The Persephone Cycle (available at www.barryandmayaspector.com <http://www.barryandmayaspector.com/>.) Her poetry has been published in a number of poetry anthologies and We’Moon calendars.   She is currently working on a second book called Distilled: Poems on Eldering that should be out by the end of the year.  She blogs at www.hangingoutwithhecate.blogspot.com <http://www.hangingoutwithhecate.blogspot.com/>. Maya has been a regular presenter at Rumi’s Caravan and Great Night of Rumi spoken word events.   



Elemental

The wind is my lover.
Sometimes he sweeps my mind clean.
Sometimes he caresses my cheek.
Sometimes he is gone.

The water is my mother.
She rocks and holds me 
as if I were a child.
Unlike the wind, she is constant,
and I cannot live without her.
Every morning and evening  
I look to the sky, to wind’s home
and admire its changing face.
But water is my solace.

Let the bed remain 
rumpled and unmade.
I have more important things 
to tend to – 
the flickering candles, 
the morning birdsong, 
the blank page.

I once watched new land being born,
lava pouring down the pali and across 
the old land to pour into the sea, 
creating new earth in a 
fanfare of pluming smoke.
Why do I think of this now?
Air and water grow lonely 
for fire and earth.

So, here they are, all assembled, 
my friends, my family.
Fire says, “Where would you be without me?”
Earth replies, “Show-off!”
Fire retorts, “Look who’s talking?  What do you call 
what you do with springtime?”
Water flows in, “There, there everyone.”
Air breezes by, almost, but not quite, 
blowing out the candles.

	- Maya Spector
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