Saturday, March 31, 2018

The Hackberry

This chrysalis
this pulsing knot of linen, Dear
lies just below the ribcage
three fingers right of the heart
Oh!
How the yearning pulls at tissue & rhyme
each gaze-every pause
before you there;
stoic
unremarkably unmoved by my desire
no tendril finds its way
no barked embrace
your trappings stripped by winter's wind
gray becomes you
but Oh, soon adorned you'll be by April
you have born witness to my days
steeped in solitude & surrender
you remained
steadfast
mighty
two carolina wrens dance among your nakedness
(jealous I am not, as they are of my own making)
singing of blue promises delight
endlessly branched to the heavens
as the wind picks up
and I gaze
I pause
against warming roots
pressed
remained
three fingers right of my heart



Thursday, March 29, 2018

what rain is called on other planets

205 days of cornsilk smoothness
edged and pressed against the winter earth
held there by love & poetry
unbearable the weight of sky
i am white
a blue jay's feather lies beyond my reach
and then
       there is the loss
carved within the hollow of hope
colors & time seem stilled
soft
ripe with the wind's fluttering promise
205 days of vessel'd surrender
smooth love
tendered-blue-falling

Tritina for the Prairie

Sandhill cranes crowding, clouding the vast blue sky
speckled fields fallow--river wide calls my soul
proclaiming winter's surrender to spring

Clouds thin to white stories writing of spring
eyes rest where crimson horizon collides with western sky
watching--waiting for signs of my returning slumbered soul

Of wild cranes and fields evermore comes my soul
to follow the flight pattern and warm winds of this early spring
flying--soaring to the sun buttoned upon the sky

of flying things and azure sky my soul wakes to spring 

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

the redemptive capacity of becoming

becoming beloved
to the budding crocus cup filled with
the dry snow of March
awash in the softness of morning
those sherbet linen garments attract the light
arms wrapped to self to hold tight the stars
bursting
with the recall of better days
what is a better day than this ordinary magic that lies in the dust
of sunlight and prairie winds
air that smells of wakening green
tongues held against licorice & peppermint tea
steeped at a quarter to seven
pain eased by posture & purpose
today is always the better day
this heart cracks wide for the rush of sorrow binding
cherish the steps my beloved
abundance lies here within this breath
tick-tocking
becoming

beloved