Spring Snow

Snow at Raccoon Creek: photography by Noelle

Snow at Raccoon Creek: photography by Noelle

Snow on spring blossoms and turns the sky in shades of gray. The yellows and greens are gone today while slate and shake burrow beneath thick robes of white. Silence fills the afternoon where birds had been singing only yesterday. No mowers out for lawns and the garden gloves are in their buckets. Huddled in the house the quiet pulls up last year’s losses and leaves them in the compost for the flower beds yet to be turned. It should be a sadness that tugs in the silence, as my heart was hungry for the trail. Instead, in blankets of tartan red I absorb a last winter’s charm. In the dark afternoon blooms my peace.

Egg Shells

Free Bing Photos

Free Bing Photos

Emptied egg shell
Pock-marked, hard exterior
Now cracked
Potency gone
Creepy membranes of
An old self
Cling

Crushed into earth
Proteins
Seep deep
Enlivening
Another seed
Waiting
And hungry
For energy

Transfer of life
One to another
Each new
Unique
But
Connected
In wholeness
And
Brokenness

Such is life
Such is death

Took Back

Re-post from Art For Ever Facebook page

Re-post from Art For Ever Facebook page

I took back the night
First, by comfort and warmth
Wrapping tightly in fat blankets
That sorrow could not reach

I took back the night
Warm cocoa in big mugs to sooth
A dark wretchedness in my soul
Warm tears in dark hours – spent

I took back the night
Opening wide window sashes
So moonlight, fireflies and little moths
Might dance in my mourner’s room

I took back the night
With hard letters burned in fires
To dead loves gone
But for their shadows in my head

I took back the night
Hope, a thought, a light brick
Layered in a house of joy, half finished
A frame waiting for laughter

Inspired by Michael Robbin’s poem, “Be Myself” in the April 2013 edition of POETRY

Cling

Out of Stone: Photo by Noelle

Out of Stone: Photo by Noelle

Out of earth, sand and stone
Deep roots cling
Against winter’s
Bone
Harsh be the wind
Stripping at bark
Leaving your limbs
To groan
Dig deep is your nature or surely be
Torn free of the darkest
loam
Give all in the sun or wither
To bare in crevices tight and
Alone
Your beauty grows yet only the jay
Knows of how you’ve been bent and
Honed