Tarry

Thistle.jpg

 

Once I lived with old grown trees,
arms bent to their years,
crooked under time’s long breath.

Cattails at attention.

Rushing stream after storm
pushing over, pushing round rocks
where gentle purple thistle rise
on prickled backbone.

There I lived in must of
leaves of seasons past.

I stayed
with moon who
arched and hid with sun
in reverie chased.

Sensibility

napo2017button2

 

Day Ten

Moon2

I knew you
before full moon
ascended above Mother Tree
to whisper your name.

I knew you
as sun wrapped
herself in scarves of
tangerine and turquoise.

And I will know you
in star bright heat
until they dissolve,
spent of every bit
of sensibility
in jubilance over you.

 

Author’s Note:

Prompt for Day 10 from NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo:

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that is a portrait of someone important to you. It doesn’t need to focus so much on what a person looks (or looked) like, as what they are or were. If you need inspiration, here’s one of my favorite portrait poems.”

 

Water Is Life

Day 26: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

Orb.jpg

 

There are seven new
planets in the
Trappist-1 star,
an ultra cool dwarf
where water could be ice
for people like you and me.

In Benedict’s rule,
mistakenly titled,
for it is not one rule
but an entire book,
there calls balance,
moderation
between zeal and formula,
far right and deep left.

In the peace of all things
Trappists step intentionally,
we dance in rain,
planets circle their
sun waiting to be unearthed.

Interlude

Day 23: Peace Poetry Postcard Month

Forestroom.jpg

 

In winter’s forest room
light streams down
from eternity’s birth,
moss unfurls where
no sun alights,
vines yaw, rocks
linger in peace.

Noiselessness drums
a tattoo of suspension,
clemency, tolerance.

In the forest room
we rest to wonder,
breathe to embrace,
slumber our transfiguration.