Amy is a great swimmer, a veritable dolphin. (When I swim with her, she sticks to me like a friendly octopus!) Amy’s wonderful mom taxis her to and from swim team, where Amy has learned all the standard strokes: crawl, breast stroke, back stroke, and even butterfly. Sunshine is mom’s junior cabbie, perched on her leg, helping her navigate Gilbert’s busy streets. Of course, Amy and Sunshine are always glad to be reunited after swim team.
Author Archives: Roger Baker-Utah
Consecration Cooking
Consecration Cooking
I cooked for hours. Even though just yesterday I had roasted the annual turkey, yet today I had cooked for hours, for my children, who would arrive at 6 o’clock for dinner with dad. Tó Brandileone crooned in the other room as I kneaded five parts butter to four parts flour, simmered sliced leeks in butter and their own juices for a long time until totally tender, whisked eggs and cream, rolled out the cold dough and baked the shells in 10-inch springform pans—they would be enormous quiches, Continue reading
Introduction to Rabbit Lane: Reflective Essays
My son Brian is a professional writer, with a Masters of Fine Arts degree in creative nonfiction. He is also an excellent writer. He introduced me to the essays of Brian Doyle, through the book One Long River of Song, essays that touch the heart in a searing unsentimental way, that provoke unexpected guffaws, that teach and humor and inspire. I suddenly realized there existed another kind of writing filling the space between the super-condensed sounds of poetry and the loose narrative of memoir: essays that some, including me, call “reflections.” Such reflections are what will inhabit this page, this space in cyberspace. I am still rummaging around for my own style, but these essays reflect no one else but me. They are longer than poems, but shorter than chapters, and move along quickly. I hope they beget hope, that what inspired me will inspire you. Ultimately, I just hope you like them.
New Digs
Amy is remodeling Sunshine’s apartment. Actually, this is his short-term rental, as it were, where Sunshine sometimes hangs out during the day while Amy does her homework. Comfy quarters. His main house is a large glass tank with a rope hammock and a heat lamp. No crickets jumping around in there–Sunshine ate them all!
I Love You, Sunshine
Helping with Homework
They Neither Sow Nor Reap
In one short cold day the stout gusts denuded my parents’ pear trees. The leaves were so vibrantly colorful, and seemed alive. They swirled in little twisters as Dad and I worked to rake them up before the snow fell. I hated to think of these leaves as just dead things sluffed off in season like flakes of dry skin. So I didn’t. I thought of them as beautiful and alive and holy, like the New Testament lilies and sparrows. And I thought they deserved a poem.
They Neither Sow Nor Reap
south winds whip and tear
at the joyful tree ornaments
all day until they twirl
and scud on the grass,
pile in corners
of color, multitudinous
vibrant reds, some greens
and yellows at the edges,
all painted uniquely
radiant and beautiful,
these trillions of leaves,
beyond sluffed scaly skin, but
the trees’ living breath,
engines of energy,
carbon sinks,
fall’s wonder-inspirers,
plucked and fallen
like lily petals
and sparrow feathers,
like the hairs of my head
Baths and Books
Like I have told you before, Sunshine and Amy are inseparable.
Having enjoyed a hot bath, it’s time to chill on the couch in a hair-drying towel and read a book together.
Sunshine, not knowing how to read (yet), is content to listen and gaze off into imagination.
I think he is growing long and stout under all Amy’s pampering!
Rubber Ducky
Beware the Dragon Witch!
Happy Halloween!!
Amy could not, of course, leave Sunshine out of Halloween, so she made him a costume hat. Cute little Sunshine became the dreaded Dragon Witch. Well, with a pink witch’s hat and a pink spider, Sunshine can’t be too scary. Which is good, because Sunshine, although a thorny dragon lizard, is a gentle pleasant little beast. So I think Amy has struck the perfect scary-cute balance, don’t you!
Happy Halloween!
Hammock Time!
Sunday Stories with Sunshine
Hey Sunshine, Do You Want to Play Legos?
What a View!
Normally scuttling around on the floor or table top, or warming in his rope hammock, Sunshine seemed to enjoyed the view of the world from the top of Amy’s head. A little perspective makes all the difference. But, hold on, Sunshine!
(Amy’s dog Coconut is pleased to have made her first cameo appearance on this blog.)
Leap Frog!

Amy and Sunshine like playing Leap Frog (or is it Leap Lizard). And, when they’re tired of jumping over each other, they take a stroll through the house. Sunshine is keeping a sharp eye out for enemies and obstacles. Good dragon.
Sunshine Story Time
We Swam the Mile Swim
I was 13 in the summer of 1977. I had failed the 100-yard swim at scout camp the year before. Now I was going for the mile swim. Mist hung heavy on Lake Seneca in the early morning. My dad lowered himself into the water with a cold shudder and swam out into the lake, while Fritz rowed alongside, with me a passenger. Dad swam and swam and swam. Fritz finally said he had swum a mile. We hauled Dad in, and I jumped out of the rowboat for the long swim back. The sidestroke was my savior as I swam slowly back to Camp Liahona. As lake finally gave way to shore and I stood on firm ground, both calves cramped, and I fell to the ground. Two men lifted me up and put my arms around their shoulders, congratulating me on my accomplishment. I was proud to sew our seahorse patches on my merit badge sash. We had done it. What’s more, we had accidentally swum two miles each, Fritz having rowed us to the wrong landmark! But we were proud and happy to have done it, and to have done it together.
We Swam the Mile Swim
You know that
patch on the back
of my old olive sash:
white with red
seahorse? I worked
for that patch: I swam
2 miles for 1 patch
2 miles
for the 1-mile swim
because the rower pulled to
the wrong landmark. Of course
I didn’t know
until the long swim ended
and two men shouldered
my dead arms after
both calves imploded
and the mile-swim boss
giggled Why
did you swim so
far? I knew all
along I could do it
no matter how far
because my dad had swum
out to that far landmark
and I had only to
sidestroke slowly
back while he watched
poised
over the gunwale
on Lake Seneca: still
steaming morning’s mist.
Image by TheOtherKev from Pixabay
Good Night Sunshine
Lily Pond in Summer Drouth
Do you ever feel dried out and empty, with no zest for life? I know I do. I am thinking that feeling is a common human experience. The happy parts of life are there but seem just out of reach. The heat of guilt and the sun of duty sap our strength, along with many other troublesome things. But I also believe that if we work for it and wait for it, relief comes to us, in the form of a smile, a kind word, a personal achievement, and many other ennobling things. In this poem I used a dried-out lake bed as a metaphor for the hard times in life, trusting that hope hangs just around the bend of tomorrow.
Lily Pond in Summer Drouth
The lily pond has
completely dried out, birds
have picked the flesh off white-boned fish, old
slimy greenery mats into dark
paper that flakes and flies
away like cindered news:
the sun has sucked all moisture from the muck:
the bowled bed lies cracked and ravined
in a million baked-mud islands:
the definition of a desiccation:
I recall:
red sliders scooting off their sun-logs, fiery
newts crawling with wet leafy fragility,
butter-cream lilies crowning: lotuses
bursting with wisdom and beauty . . .
but the spring will not flow:
the pond has dried and died:
and there is nothing for it
but to settle in
until tomorrow’s heaviness sheds
abundance.
Roger is the author of Rabbit Lane: Memoir of a Country Road. The book tells the true life story of an obscure farm road and its power to transform the human heart. The book is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. See Rabbit Lane reviewed in Words and Pictures.
Above image by Carabo Spain from Pixabay.
Piano Lessons
Whereas Sunshine may be Amy’s art instructor (see Bearded Dragon Mermaids), Amy is Sunshine’s piano teacher. They make a good pair, don’t you think?!
Bearded Dragon Mermaids
Rock-A-Bye Sunshine
Sunshine and Skater
Sunshine in the Morning
On the Jordan at Dusk
Knowing the beaver come out in the evening, I launched from Porter’s Landing at 7:00 p.m. and sprinted three miles upstream, then turn and paddled slowly and quietly with the current, looking for beaver. I saw 7 beaver, 3 great blue heron, 2 black-capped night heron, and a belted kingfisher: all miraculous. I arrived at the launch just as the dark settled in. By the time I hauled out, this poem had composed itself and was gently asking to be written.
On the Jordan at Dusk
settle into the rhythm…
dip and pull…
breathe…
dip and pull…
breathe…
wiggle
on the keel…
Belted Kingfisher
splashes indigo and rust
on white canvas…
Great Blue Heron
flies low and wide toward me,
and I wonder if I resemble a fish…
pink petals and perfume
droop transfigured into ripe
red rose hips…
evening’s green aromas
drift over the water,
warm and pungent…
silent beaver swim
in the shadows of a gibbous moon,
waning…
Inconsequential
Walking along Idaho’s Salmon River shore at sunset during a 52-mile float, I began to notice the ridges of tiny underwater dunes. I thought about how inconsequential the weak waves were, yet how they shaped the dunes. I thought about how the little things in life may seem inconsequential, but always have important formational significance.
Inconsequential
inconsequential waves
lap the river bank:
a sandy river bank:
in the shallows
long ridges run
along the shore—
not straight, but undulating,
now breaking off
now splitting,
now rejoining—
ridgelines a centimeter high:
and each incoming
and each outgoing
adds to the tiny dunes,
takes away,
reshapes . . .
Spa Time!
Even a lizard enjoys a little spa time, and Amy sees that Sunshine does not go without. Being a creature of the Australian Outback desert, a warm bath is in order, followed by time lounging under the sun lamp. Isn’t his color gorgeous? All I can say is, if I were a bearded dragon, I would want Amy to be my human.
Fiddle Fever
I have attended some great concerts in my many years: Journey: Billy Joel; Boston; John Taylor. But the best concert I ever attended was a free community Concert in the Park in New Brunswick, New Jersey, in the summer 1981. The band was Fiddle Fever, and I was 17. From the first note, I was completely captivated. Their Appalachian bluegrass music was earthy and mystical, happy and tender, evoking generations and adventures past and yet to come, and expertly performed. The players radiated enthusiasm and utter joy that washed over and through me. We bought the vinyl and listened to it hundreds of times until it was too scratched to play. To my delight, I recently found a CD of the original LP, with several bonus tracks. Thirty-nine years later, I am playing Fiddle Fever again. I am captivated still.
Lizard Labyrinth
Silver Spoon Chimes
Forty years ago my parents loaded the station wagon and drove the family from our New Jersey home to the woods of Maine for a modest vacation. We stayed at Gray’s Cabins, which had no central heat (but a fireplace) or running water, but an abundance of gorgeous views and rustic nostalgia. At a small bait shop on a winding country road, while Dad bought lures and earthworms, I stood on the porch admiring a mobile of flattened silver spoons suspended from bent and curled fork tines. The spoons met each other, as the breeze passed through, with surprisingly rich peals, as from a bell. For two decades I haunted thrift stores for discarded silver-plate, and made dozens of chimes for family and friends. I recently pulled out of a box the scattered spoons and fork of my last remaining set of chimes, polished the silver, restrung the spoons, and hung the chimes in my patio, where they tinkle and take me back to the green woods of Maine.
If plated silver is not available, you can make your own set with any inexpensive metal ware. Tools you will need:
- hammer
- rag to buffer the spoons from the hammer and concrete surface as you carefully flatten them
- power drill with very small drill bit
- block of wood under the ware as you drill
- needle-nose pliers
- fishing line or stout threat (thick string will muffle the spoon vibrations and dampen their sound)
- nail or hook to hang from
The colder your metal ware, the higher the likelihood the spoons will crack and the tines will break off. Work with the spoons and fork after leaving them in the sun for a few minutes.
Lizard Bling!
A Portrait of Sunshine as a Young Dragon
Sunshine began his life of friendship with Amy just seven months ago as a tiny young lizard. Now he is in full adolescence, and still calm, patient, and pleasant. Amy thought a portrait of her friend was in order. Here is her first “peek-a-boo” angle.
And now, Sunshine’s full-color portrait, drawn expertly by Amy. In Portuguese one would say, “Tal e qual,” meaning “Exactly so.” Great work, Amy!
Your Package Has Arrived!
Amy and Sunshine decided to go into the delivery business, called “Delivery Squad.” Watch out UPS! Amy did all the initial heavy lifting by building the business headquarters. And she designed and fabricated a specialty delivery van, backpack, and cap to fit her Bearded Lizard partner. Perhaps unfortunately, Sunshine can deliver packages only from one side of the dining table to the other. But the service is personal!
Ready for business!
Why in Heaven’s Name Can’t We Get There?
For 400 years America has struggled with the racial hatred that enabled slavery and perpetuates inequity. For untold thousands of years one people has subjugated and enslaved another. Why can’t humanity rise above its hate? Please, we must. This is not a political post, or a racial post, or an activist post. This is a human post, a poem begging for hope and love and equity.
Why in Heaven’s Name Can’t We Get There?
George Floyd: a name:
the name of a Man:
a Black Man:
an African-American man:
who wanted only to breathe:
To Breathe!
to breathe the crisp air of freedom:
to breathe kisses upon his children:
to breathe love to his beloved:
a Black Man who has gathered us together:
a world of all color:
in chant and march and rage:
in song:
in colorful earthy human song:
singing the name of every Man:
every Black Man:
every White Man:
every Yellow and Brown and Red Man:
subject to subjugation:
chafing and straining against the rough blistering cords of bondage:
singing the name of every Woman:
who hoped for her Child:
as good as any Child:
a Black Child or a White Child:
who dared to hope:
hope against We don’t want you! signs:
in the windows and on the doors:
hope against blood and bombs and broken bones:
hope against the burning, cutting ropes:
who dare to hope against that universal
NO!
He could not breathe:
another man pressed a knee on his neck:
and he could not breathe:
George Floyd:
the name of a Man:
a Black Man:
the name of every Child:
the name of every Woman:
the name of every Man:
the name of a nation:
a nation that cannot breathe:
We Want To Breathe!
the name of a nation of people who can barely breathe:
a nation of too many who do not know love, except:
the false love of defending what we think is our own:
which is no love at all:
but sticky, unctuous pride:
but a bashing-teeth hatred:
but a cheap rickety need to be better, somehow intrinsically better, than another:
How Absurd!
how absurd to think:
I am better than you:
better than anyone:
better than George Floyd:
better than any other human:
better than any other equal human:
Equal Equal Equal!
But we cannot seem to do it:
we cannot seem to allow any skin to be better than our own:
better: a strange notion we can reconcile only if we lie.
Well, we had better:
we had better stop chewing glass:
the broken glass of hate:
we had better stop swallowing the cutting nails of arrogance:
we had better put our arms around one another, and hold one another’s hands
and weep our declaration:
We are the same, you and I!
The Same!
with the same pleasant dreams:
with the same color of pounding blood:
with the same innate capacities:
for love and for hate;
for love, and for caring and kindness:
for helping a Sister:
for helping a Brother:
for helping a Daughter and a Son.
So:
come on:
come on out:
come on out of yourself:
give it all up:
let go of anything, of everything, that makes you less:
less than what you are:
less than what you can be:
be Equal
and
be Good
and
be Free . . .
(Image above by truthseeker08 from Pixabay)
A Lizard Ate My Homework!
Game Night!
Every Sunday night Amy’s family gathers for a nice family dinner, a spiritual or musical devotional, dessert, and games. Even Sunshine joins in, munching his salad and playing along in a game of Sorry. These special times have been important for Amy’s family bond and strengthen relationships, and could well be replicated in some form by other families. Enjoy especially the desserts and games–only, Sunshine won’t be on your team!
Get Along Little Dogies!
Osprey Brings a Snake for Her Crying Chick
During a visit to Greer, Arizona, we played at River Reservoir, where I searched for the Osprey my sister had seen weeks before. The children canoed and fished for crayfish and napped on a quilt under the pines, while I scanned the sky. The tree-top nest stood tall in front of me, and I was not disappointed:
Osprey Brings a Snake for Her Crying Chick
on a barkless ponderosa snag
ascending the hill—
a lightning kill—
a nest of rough twigs tangled
in the crook of its crown
a beak rises
peaks out and over
scans from north to south to north again
and from that beak a hunger call:
cry cry cry cry cry cry cry—
then the long wait for the mother
and the regurgitated trout:
cry cry cry cry cry—
Here she comes!
swooping through pine tops
a snake slack with death dangling
from the ebony nails of her talons
Roger Baker is a municipal attorney, aspiring poet, and amateur naturalist. He is the author of Rabbit Lane: Memoir of a Country Road. The book tells the true life story of an obscure farm road and its power to transform the human heart. The book is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. See Rabbit Lane reviewed in Words and Pictures.
Sunshine’s Summer Hat
With Phoenix Arizona regularly reaching 110F in June, Amy has made sure Sunshine is prepared for the hot sun, with his own straw hat. Of course, the Bearded Dragon lizard is native to the brutally hot Australian desert. But whether Sunshine needs a hat or not, Amy is loyal and caring and looks after Sunshine’s every need.
Sunshine on my Shoulder
The iconic John Denver song gained a new dimension for me when I met Sunshine face to face. Sunshine enjoys being held, but his* favorite vantage point is my shoulder, where he sits contentedly, blinking now and again, but otherwise quite still. But he’s not partial to my shoulder, necessarily, as you can see.



(*I just learned that Sunshine is a male Bearded Dragon!)
Nice To Meet You, Sunshine
Amy and her mom cheered for us when we arrived in Phoenix for a visit. Sunshine joined us in her covered wagon. We all wore our face masks, even Sunshine. We were so happy to finally meet Sunshine, face to face.



Not the Zip Line!
Amy loves riding the zip line her dad built in the back yard. What a thrill for to speed through the air. But this is one activity where Sunshine says, Leave me out! The whirring metallic sound of the pulley racing over the cable alarms the lizard, and is the only sound or event that has caused her to gape and frill. And that’s okay. Sunshine doesn’t have to like everything!
Sunshine’s Green Hammock
When a Feather Falls from an Osprey
This is my staff. An old mountain-man friend, Harvey, whose Indian name is Many Feathers, taught me the technique of shaving the feather shafts and curling them back into themselves to make a loop, then threading a string to tie to the staff. Thus attached, the feathers sway freely in the breeze without damage. Watching it rest in a corner, I wonder why I made it and what it means, to me, today. Well, perhaps it is enough that the feathers are beautiful, and that I carved the staff, and that I love them. Is more rationale needed? This poem imagines finding real raptor feathers, creating a staff, and pondering the meanings.
When a Feather Falls from an Osprey
when a feather falls from an Osprey
wing and lies on a lakeshore
path a boy might find
her and raise her up and stroke
along her stiff-soft vane and hide
her in his sleeping bag
to take home, and, when
considerably older, he might learn
from Many Feathers to drape
her from a staff carved smooth,
from a waxy string tied through
a loop in her shaved shaft
where she sways
in an air-conditioned corner
with companions
—and just what are they for?
—what do they mean, now?
dead feathers not
flying just remembering
flights taken—short bursts—and more
merely dreamed of—
(All feathers depicted are lawfully possessed.)
Sunshine Is Growing Up Beautifully!
In just six months, Sunshine has grown from a rather drab little pointy creature to a beautifully-hued growing pointy creature. (Keep those crickets coming!) Sunshine is as gentle as ever, and she and Amy remain the best of friends.
Baby Sunshine
Growing Sunshine, with Bracelet
Amy and Sunshine: “Buds and Pards Forever”
I Have Never Heard Such Joy
On a canyon ride through gambel oaks, a streak of scarlet and yellow caught my eye, and the prettiest cascading song pleasured my ears. I stopped my bicycle and stared at the miraculous little creature. She in turn eyed me curiously and opened her beak in renewed song. How could I not try to write her into a poem, though she remains joyfully wild in the woods?
I Have Never Heard Such Joy
I have never heard
such joy
as when a tanager opened
her soul to sing her trilling
song: a symphony compressed in
a single glorious line—
and, I know I should not
begin a poem with “I”
but to pen “much joy was heard” simply
will not do, for
I saw her scarlet streak through green,
I heard her delightsomeness,
I discerned her eager joy—
and as I stared, baffled
and thrilled, she again yielded up,
again, knowing
I could not
fathom after hearing but once her cleansing
cascade of happiness
Image by PublicDomainImages from Pixabay
Roger Baker is a municipal attorney, aspiring poet, and amateur naturalist. Roger is the author of Rabbit Lane: Memoir of a Country Road. The book tells the true life story of an obscure farm road and its power to transform the human heart. The book is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. See Rabbit Lane reviewed in Words and Pictures.
Time To Go Camping!
High School Graduation!
Thousands of high school graduations happened by pre-recorded broadcast with empty auditoriums. Among the illustrious graduates were Amy’s sister, Afton, and cousin, Hyrum. Unfazed, when Amy couldn’t go to Afton’s cap-and-gown, Amy brought the cap-and-gown to Afton, with a little help from Sunshine. Congratulations graduates of the Class of 2020!
I Would Love To See the River in that Way
The river pulls me back and back, and I see from the level of the water what I cannot see from the high-bank trail. They look at me wistfully, wanting. They can have it, if they will look. This new poem tells what I saw, and how you can see it, too.
I Would Love To See the River in that Way
a cyclist braked
and waved:
Have you seen anything interesting
on the river
today? Any wild things?
Oh, always . . .
always.
I have to remember: I cannot
make them come. I
allow them, if
they will . . .
heron dropped from the sky, not
beating her wings even once, just
expertly angling, dangling
crooked legs
and five fluffy goslings disappeared
in dive, rising obscured under
dark bank branches
and old red slider slid
from his sunning log
and beaver sat munching
a willow stem straight
on: I could see
chisel teeth, black-bead eyes,
little red hands holding
the bough: he dove
with a splashy slap, more
annoyed than alarmed:
and I felt so happy—
she looked past,
and I began to drift.
I would love to see
the river
in that way.
Roger Baker is a municipal attorney, aspiring poet, and amateur naturalist. Roger is the author of Rabbit Lane: Memoir of a Country Road. The book tells the true life story of an obscure farm road and its power to transform the human heart. The book is available in print and for Kindle at Amazon. See Rabbit Lane reviewed in Words and Pictures.



























































































