Fire burns crimson hot
against night’s black sky.
Thousands of eyes stare
through nature’s scrim.
Souls stir
below ancient burial mounds,
spew bits of stick ash
into sacred space,
angry at our trespass.
Nature
Fireflies
Iowa fireflies
dance with stars
against the black backdrop
of eternity.
Once trapped
within a glass jar
their magic dims
like childhood dreams
whimsical
wistful
gone.
Aging Forest
Tree trunk cadaver
like old man’s vericose veins
but still standing straight.
Spring Harvest
Spring Harvest
We searched that day
for morels and fiddleheads
no words, no sounds, except the wind.
The rock laden stream followed us
deeper and deeper into wooded fields,
side by side seekers.
Heads bowed, eyes on nature’s floor
suddenly spied the curling greens
and soft brown spongy shapes.
We knelt as one, upon soft damp earth
hands outstretched to pluck the harvest
foretaste of the meal to come,
wild succulent edibles of spring.
Drought
Cracked earth craves relief
parched crops crumble, seedlings lost
dust storm disaster.
Mother Nature
Cries gracefully to nourish the earth,
spins arms wide to create the wind.
Smiles warmly upon her children,
slow to anger, seldom thunders fury.
Flowers Personified
The lilac family lived on a lane
colorful and ostentatious
in a quiet sort of way.
Muted violet, creamy whites
pastel pinks and deep purples
beautiful dressers and lovers of perfume.
Nestled in a blanket of green
she peeks out with her ruffles.
A bitsy thing among her friends
demure and delicate
the sweet-scented
Miss Lily of the Valley.
She quietly lives the rules of mourning
body drooped in shadows
occasionally sees the sun
empathy personified
destined for sadness
the perennial bleeding heart.
Waves in Fury
Waves in Fury
Waves spew anger
again and again
batter rocks to granular bits
like cruel words
batter the vulnerable heart
crush self esteem to nothingness.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Forces of Nature.” Tobacco Bay, Bermuda – February 2015. Amazing to feel the wind so strong it made us lean forward to move. Back at our rental, I licked my upper lip and could still taste the salt from these glorious and angry waves! I think I must have been a sea creature in a past life — how I love the ocean!
New Life Abounds
Early buds of spring tempt
like sizzling popcorn kernels
suddenly burst open
to joyful oohs and ahs.
Cheerful yellow daffodils
beside candy-striped tulips
nestle in new mown grass.
Wide-eyed passersby
enjoy blue hyacinth perfume
beneath canopies of creamy
white magnolia trees.
Discarded bulky coats reveal
bright topped pregnant bellies
as young women strut
like ducklings on parade.
New life popping everywhere!
Photos of the sculpture Make Way for Ducklings, in Boston Commons. A mysterious unknown person always puts seasonal hats on the ducklings — these are their Easter bonnets!
Come Fly With Me
The large guest room hides
from baby squalls, ice cube maker
coffee grinder and garage door sounds
a three floor climb to indoor heaven.
Double bed entices with heirloom quilts.
Wall to wall, three-paned window
frames tall verdant backyard forest
invites dreams, a portal to the mind.
Mornings are delectable. Sun filters
myriad shades of green, breeze shivers
through leaves, becomes visible in movement
dew evaporates chills to warmth.
Pure luxury to lie in bed, eyes open wide
as sun rays seep through window panes
left to right, flit from branch to branch
like reading nature’s tale revealed in glass.
Morning presents positive possibilities
light unchecked by darkness or distress.
I become the bird that spreads its wings
and flies toward the day.
lillian the home poet 