Spring guises itself in autumn splendor
with bundles of amber spinners bursting
and miniature maple leaves unfurling -
In stark contrast the dogwoods dance
unabashed in their cosmetically cultured pinks
yet this is not the wonder of my eye -
Who knew that below the snow last winter
deep beneath brown leaves and long grasses
wild tulips were forming their rise-
On this morning there they were
yellow silken heads not quite open
awaiting their woodland sun-
It was a gift from our Mother Nature
for those of us too old to get wild bouquets
for those of us still seeking, looking around ~
I. (Spring)
Anam Cara
Soul Friend
how true these longings
your light has gone missing
this hearth has gone silent
how many miles for this journey
& what will you bring me in returning
tales dressed in your verbal splendor
maybe a surf across a realized moonbeam
or a thin place amongst honest thieves
silent shadows stopped breathing
awaiting tonight's pink moon
& your knock upon my door
one ember is left
promising a blazing fire
time is patient
I wish I were ~
II. (Anam Cara)
poet under construction 