Poetry

VERMILLION

A flame of vermillion cardinal
Flickers sharply on white snow,
Then by wing’ed breath extinguished -
Leaves a smoldering glow.

is

GOLDFINCHES

Black-striped goldfinches

on red rusted wire sitting
between creosoted fence posts leaning
toward dry corn stalks waiting
for autumn harvesting.

A moment of time
In rhythm and rhyme.

RED LANTERN MOON

Her hand released
The Chinese paper lantern
Aglow with flickering flame
Red-orange-white
Rising slowly
Patiently
Into the night sky
Drifting silently up
Past flickering fireflies
Dancing on clear currents
In a gentle arc
Lifting ever more
Toward silver stars
Hovering
Before the shining face
Of a golden moon

HUSBAND, YOU SLEEP

My husband, you sleep
upon soft pillows -

hand beneath cheek.

Quietly,
silently,
in pale moonlight -

I watch you.

Breathing a sigh
you turn to me.

Reaching out,
you find me.

In soft covers

we wrap ourselves
together,

and sleep.

SUMMER SWALLOWS SAILING,

a child's poem

Summer Swallows sail
Up on the Seven Seas -
They gaily Fly
Currents of Sky
With Dragonflies and Bees.

AUTUMN WINDS

Blowing winds, blow -
By autumn's breath that cannot show,
Through curling leaves and branches bow,
With shallow stream and current flow,
O’er rolling hill and green meadow,
In dark and deep nesting borough,
Quietly whispering through the willow,
Swirling ‘round the brown-eyed doe
Through wildflowers in forest grow,
Wandering ever to and fro,
Whether high or here below,
Where-so-ever you will go...
Blow winds, blow.

THE LITTLE SEASHELL,

a child's poem

I hold a lovely seashell
in my little hand,
I picked it up just now
from the sun-warm sand.

It shimmers and it shines
in the morning sun,
I'm so very glad
that I found this one.

It's brown and pink,
and white and tan,
and feels so lovely
in my hand.

Its dainty curves
spiral round,
its tiny owner
can't be found.

I put it up
to my little ear
and hear it sing
soft and clear.

The water brought
it to the shore.
How I wish
it would bring me more!

MORNING SPARROWS

Out my window
There I see
So many sparrows
In a tree.

Or more like,
It's a bush.
There's too many!
They have to squoosh!

Here they sit,
And there they chatter
Of all things
That to sparrows matter.

In they fly
And out they go -
When one is gone,
They do not know.

They like to chirp
and chirp all day -
What is said?
I cannot say.

SOFTLY IT FALLS

Softly falls the morning snow
From high grey clouds
To here below -
Swiftly swirling,
Whitely whirling -
Starr’d crystals ensilvered glow.

CHRISTMASY CARDINALS

Christmasy Cardinals
make very Merry
in a Winter-green bush
among the Berry.

BUMBLE BEE & MEE,

a child's poem

I saw a busy Bumble Bee
Just the other Day…

I looked at Him –
Hee looked at Mee –

As Hee was
On His way.

Fat, fluffy, Black,
Yellow, stripey, Round –

What an adorable little Bug –
Hee eeven came with Sound!

Flickering Firefly

On a balmy summer night,

I see a tiny flickering light

spiral up gently bright.

He isn't lit for very long -

First, he's OFF.

Then, he's ON.

He's getting kind of hard to see -

He needs to change his battery.

HA-HA-HA-HAI-KU!

*Ha-ha-ha-HAI-KU!!!*

Gesundheit! Bless you. *Thank you.*

Here is a tissue.

BUNNIES

Morning dawns

for the clear fresh day –

Drowsy bunnies

dart out to play.

Mama nibbles

in a clover bay;

Cotton-tail nestlings, so blithe and gay,

tag one another, then dash away.

Afternoon sun

in bright array –

In quiet, cool burrows

they placidly lay.

Evening's pale moon

draws near to stay –

Joyful bunnies

Caper, leap, gamboling, play.

FLUTTERBY BUTTERFLY

Have you ever

wondered WHY

this lovely bug's called a

Butter-FLY?

If he were made of

bread and butter,

it might be kind of hard

to flutter.

Yes, it's true,

he can fly,

and when he does

go past your eye...

Why not, then,

refer to him -

as a lovely

Flutter-BY?

MY HEART FROM ME

Against the oval curve You rest -

Nestled warmly into my breast.

'Pon shining hair my check rests;

Tiny round hand to rose cheek pressed.

Gently exhaling with rising chest -

Contented sighs with each moist breath.

Sweetly snuggled into your nest -

My heart from me, You have wrest.

A TARNISHED SILVER LOCKET

Hesitating,

her slender fingers

momentarily hover

above silky folds
of nocturnal velvet

where
a river
of grey-silver coils
lay entwined.

Tenderly touching

the smooth surface -

fingertips glide
along the untrodden pathway -

gathering a strand -

places it upon the pale cup
of her upturned palm.

For a time
and then,

noiselessly
she stands

contemplating her reflection
in the aged looking glass -

remembering

a better time
before this.

Unlocking the clasp,

her fingers feel blindly

behind her neck

at the nape,
warm and soft,
where fine sandy hair lies --

meeting
the two metal ends
and fastening them
together.

The grey of old silver
shines
against the opaque blue
of the marled sweater.

Tarnished,

it hangs heavily
and elegantly
upon its slender chain -

large and oval,

purest silver

resting over the place
beneath which
steadily beats her heart.

Delicately etched leaves
swirl
and dance
over the curve
of the raised surface -

ensnaring and holding
quick shards of light.

A beloved gift
from one so very dear -

treasured and given
as an emblem
of love -

a manifest token
between now
and a time before -

broken
in two
by a tearing.

She clearly remembers
the day of the Gift.

The Giver
tenderly
locked the ends
of the shining chain

together
behind her white collar -

like the radiant moon
hung upon
the deep black night -

the silver oval gleamed

of sincere
and honest love

and
gentle tender affection.

Now,

darkened
by time

but not
by her love,

it faintly shines

solitary

upon her breast -

hope
and faith
undimmed -

suspended above
her beating heart

upon its slender
silvered chain.

MISS CHICKADEE IN HER FINERY

Do you see Miss Chickadee?

How lovely is her finery!

A little black cap upon her head,

Black ribbon round her throat,

Ivory blouse upon her breast,

And a tawny strip-ed coat.

Look how beautifully she is dressed -

With every feather perfectly pressed.

Happily, she hops along –

Chirping, singing a cheery song.

Would you dress as well as she

If a Chickadee you could be?