I Will Take You In
the heavens cover me like a sleeping baby
with a star-dappled blanket,
the color of night
the sun worships me as a wildflower goddess
spreading its golden dress in a shimmering curtsy at dawn
and bowing its head with respect at dusk
with my two loving open palms,
my acres of gently waving fingers,
I accept all the land might send for me to gather in
I am a joyful child
with yellow butterflies and shining dragonflies about my face
with industrious burrowers beneath my feet
when startled, I shudder with a burst of flapping crows
but I am reassured by the meadowlarks,
the soft brush of breeze, and singing bees
I am the Purple Poppy Mallow
I am the Pearly Everlasting
I am the Yellow Evening Primrose
go out beyond your fence, your gate,
past the ramshackle barn,
the silent plow
look for the end to the path, and go farther
look for the vole, the shrew, the spittlebug,
the winding garter snake, the leaping orange fox
look for the place where rabbits hide and wild begins
let go of all in you that has been tamed
and I will take you in
~First published in Writing in a Woman's Voice, May 1st, 2022.
Listening to Snow
crystalline voices
as old as water itself
have come to visit again
this time, disguised as little white shivers-
when listening to snow
be gentle with yourself
as you watch each long, soft journey
from the beclouded heights
you may overhear
a beautiful, frightening truth
as they speak of destiny
of transmutation
you may find yourself
for a fleeting moment
clutching those things around you
that seem solid
or visited
by a vague memory
of disappearing from one life
and being born into another
~Published in Verse-Virtual Online Community Journal of Poetry, September 2023 Issue
Blurry Fluttering
on the shelf
by the window
a picture of you in a place I’ll call heaven
playing piano in a garden
next to it, your aftershave
opened briefly and only on special occasions
and lots of angels left and right,
just in case, though neither of us believe
a small photograph of us when I was two
you are directing my attention to the camera
then, and even now
you are encouraging me to smile
was that you
just now, in the window?
or was it only the blurry fluttering
of peripheral birds?
first, the sound of muffled flight
then, the hollow silence of empty air
Addition and Subtraction
how much does the sky weigh at any one time
when counting all things that fly
that intermingle and evaporate
that rise and fall
all things hidden from our view
do the gods calculate such things
standing on the clouds in their rhinestone sandals?
one came to me through my open window
on a summer night
when I was a child hiding inside my heart
her hair a radiant curtain, gently lifted
she smelled of green cut grass
and wore a dress of soft white moon cloth
she smiled and when she spoke
a sparkle of fireflies floated out into the air
believe, she said
and gave me a tiny pearl covered in wings, to swallow
use this to float up to the sky
and you will be counted
what is the power of hope
when compared to the density of darkness
what is the weight of the gravity beneath our beds
what is the weight of the sky when we arrive
do the gods consider such things?
Published in Verse-Virtual, June 2022 Issue:
White Dress on a Clothesline
who has left this delicate cotton cloth
handsewn with care
to fit a young girl’s shape
with its small white buttons
its white lace collar
pinned at the shoulders
on this worn clothesline
behind this empty farmhouse?
the cloth is thin
and made for dense summer days
when this tree above
would have been fertile green
when there would have been
birds singing
a song for rising
a song for resting
a song by which to wander
a song to call the children home
more empty than the broken chairs
on the collapsing porch
this abandoned house
will soon be embraced by wild
come to claim, consume, console -
one day, it will call this cotton dress
with its blue satin ribbon about the waist
to rejoin the brown earth
this empty white dress
uplifted and released
ascending and descending
in the chilly breeze
Poem "White Dress on a Clothesline" published in Writing In A Woman's Voice, April 30th, 2022. Winner of the 95th Moon Prize. https://writinginawomansvoice.blogspot.com/2022/04/blog-post_30.html
Erratic Balloon
I understand
I do
you are not the only one
who sometimes feels like a frightened child
afraid of an erratic balloon
filled with angry exhalations
the shadow of birds
swooping too close
a zigzagging kite
controlled by the wind’s demands
a cloud that suddenly covers the sun
threatening a storm
it was a necessary habit
formed too early on
now, useless time spent
worried about ghosts that vanish into nothing
~Published in First Literary Review-East