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Diane Webster's goal is to remain open to poetry ideas in everyday life, nature or an overheard phrase and to write. Diane enjoys the challenge of transforming images into words to fit her poems. Her work has appeared in "Home Planet News Online," "North Dakota Quarterly," "Talking River Review" and other literary magazines. GARDEN TUNESAmong garden blooms two musicians attempt to mimic nature tunes rippling over pond, wafting through air in flower perfume, prolonged note from violin string. Music stands play mime like stick men on paper, shadows stuck on sidewalk while praying mantis practices tai chi on frond stem. BOY IN STOCKING CAP Even in 100-degree weather the boy wears black topped off with his stocking cap like he enjoys sweat more than bad-hair-day ridicule or maybe rehearsing old age when side hair fringes the arid baldness on top, and he remembers skateboarding boldly down third street hill instead of returning inside when ice slickens sidewalks. MY FAULT Hot summer day I sit in the open doorway with the cat sprawled under my legs until a mourning dove skids to a stop on the shaded sidewalk; cat leaps into pounce position and crouch-scurries closer except the dove ascends as if the sidewalk sizzled, and the cat plops down with a rude look toward me. WILD WONDERThe cat heard the intruder first
as I opened the door more confident in morning that at night when fear of men lurking in the garage tickling the door knob in hopes curiosity opens the door, but this morning the sound must be the neighbor’s cat crouched behind the garage door readying himself for a pounce as an incautious bird settles for dropped seed from the feeder. But the cat knew panicked bird wing sounds and charged outside in instant hunter mode leaping on the bench and scampering from hood to trunk in wired pounce a second away any second, until I open the overhead door, and the frightened house finch adrenaline darts away, and the cat scowls at me like I might be worth a second-opportunity kill.
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