Posts Tagged ‘autumn’

Canada Geese Formation At Moonrise And Sunrise: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

August 28, 2015

Good morning, geese V!/
I cried seeing you against/
the moon last night, too

Advertisements

The Constancy Of Wild Geese: Revolutionary Email Free Verse Poetry

December 31, 2014

My family always
calls each other,
twice a year:
“The wild geese are flying!”

“I’ll be right there!”
We grab cups of coffee,
throw on layers,
and brisk walk to the lake.

Ice, black and mottled,
or silver and new,
covers the bays
and inlets,
but, somewhere,
waves are breaking through.
There is open water.

From far away,
carried on cold breezes
which sting our ears
and tear our eyes,
we hear the familiar call.

“HuhUUuh. HuhUUuh.”
We peer out over the lake,
up,
until we see them,
the familiar V
cutting through the wind.

And we laugh,
and jump up and down,
and wave,
and cry.

I’ve wondered why
it stirs us;
why we always
run to see them,
as certainly as they
always
fly.

Do they look for us,
standing on the shore,
waving,
watching,
calling,
crying?

Does the dip of their wings
as they land,
one after the other,
say to us
“Hello, old friends,
ground-bound.
Good to see you.
Thanks for the welcome.
Your clothes never match,
but they make us laugh!
HuuuUHH. HuuuUHH!”

Probably not.

But we can pretend.

Maybe we run
and listen
and search
and watch
because they remind us
of our place.

We join with them
in the great globe,
spinning,
circling,
returning again
and again
and again.

They take away
our winter fears.
Steel us against the
incoming!
cold,
or soar
our spirits
with promise
and hope
and upcoming
warmth.

As long as they fly,
life goes on
as it has,
as it will,
as it should.

We can
and will
continue
to spread our wings,
to fly,
to run,
to call,
to wave,
to cry,
to laugh,
to believe,
to know our place
in things,
as long as there is
the constancy
of wild geese.

On The Eve Of Solstice In My Brown Garden: Revolutionary Email Free Verse Poetry

December 20, 2014

DeadRoseGarden_Jan2015A friend and I
walked through the stillness
of a late autumn
early winter.

A gentle dust of frost
and a wisp of snow
bathed dead twigs
and leaves
and grasses,
browned,
wilted,
frost-bitten.

“Look how ugly
those rose bushes are!
Remember their summer
beauty? It’s Hard to believe
they are brown and black
and wilted!”

“And the maple tree!
Once gloriously green,
then shimmering scarlet!
Now bunches of dead,
grey twigs and branches,
a few black and brown leaves
desperately hanging on,
as if to recall former colored beauty,
as if to say “You once gazed,
amazed,
at me,
in my glory.

And the grasses!
Glowing light and dark
greens
and silver hues,
now fallen over
blades
of rotten decay
and death.”

I paused
on our walk.
My breath
formed silver clouds
suspended before my face.
In that suspenseful,
suspended
moment,
it seemed I could see
through the cloud, clearly,
what had been,
and what would yet be,
and what was:
Beauty.

My voice hushed,
almost to a whisper,
as though I feared
to disturb
their slumber.

“When you awake,
first,
in the morning,
and gaze at your lover,
as the early beams
turn her hair shimmering,
her skin glowing,
you stop
and admire her,
gently,
silently, softly.

You look
not just from memory
of past beauty
and delight,
of moments shared.

Do you wish she looked
as she did
in her shimmering black dress?
Her swimsuit at the beach?
Her well-maintained work ensemble?
Her cook’s outfit?
Her yoga suit?
or that get-up-and-go
only you see
(and only for a moment!)?

Is that what you wish for
and think of
as you see her,
dreaming,
slumbering?

No.
You stop
and gaze,
and appreciate
in THAT moment,
and enjoy THAT view.

You don’t criticize
hair tossed and tangled.
You don’t call revolting
a face that is devoid
of all enhancing make up,
that still glows
with faint warmth.

You don’t withdraw
from her scent
made stronger from
her time and energy
spent providing you joy.

When you look upon her,
you don’t see
ugly.
You see beauty
in so many forms,
you hold your breath
for fear that the very air
you exhale
might disturb her,
might stir her
from her deep slumber,
and that moment
of soft,
gentle,
pure
beauty
will be lost.

“Just a moment more,”
you think,
“to admire in rapt
appreciation,
her peaceful,
tranquil,
sleeping
soul.”

So it is
when I gaze
on my
wilted rose garden,
my bare tree branches,
my brown and blackened grasses.

I do not see death,
ugly,
with its black,
brown,
and wilted rot.

Instead,
I see a sleeping
beauty,
sweet repose
in that wilted rose.

I see the twigs
and tufts of grass
slumbering,
gathering strength.
I admire the look,
gaze
at the phase
they are in,
sleeping,
resting,
renewing.

That renewal
not only
has its own beauty,
but it reminds me
of what is yet to come:
Tight buds pushing
out of twigs
and branches;
bright green blades
bursting forth
past old ancestors
that provided protection
and nourishment;
bright scented petals
bending seemingly dead
sprigs,
exploding the garden
with early spring color.

Gazing, I see
not just that promise,
but the soft, gentle,
subtle breathing,
the ebb and flow,
the yin and yang
of sleeping,
resting,
reviving
beauty.”

My words
and breath
hung,
crystal in the air,
then slowly fell,
shimmering,
and surrounded
that sleep
with morning rainbows
and promises.

Centering Tree: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

October 25, 2013

Centering tree on the shores of Lake Winneconne, where I heard Spring come, and watched Fall leaveCottonwood trees on the shore of Lake Winneconne. Where I heard spring comeIt’s the same tree, the /
same place I heard spring come. Now/
fall’s here. I weep joy.

Anticipating Autumn Leaves: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

October 11, 2013

Autumn half moon waxing over Mt. Nebo, UtahThe waxing half moon
gives the promise of a bright/
fall spectacular.

Albion Alpine Autumn: Revolutionary Email Sonnet

October 3, 2011

Fall wildflower glow in the sunset at Alta, Utah's Albion basinLike a woman reading
In her soft, quilted bed,
With warm, golden lamp light
Glowing ’round her head,

So do fall’s fading flowers
Of Albion’s alpine meadows shine
As they show off late beauty
At sunset, one last time.

For soon a warm blanket,
Soft, deep and white,
Will form a safe coverlet
And protect them both at night.

Then, the brightness of morning and spring
Will amaze the eyes with the beauty waking brings.

Invitation to Dance on the Waves: A Romantic Email Sonnet

October 5, 2010

My shy invitation
for an evening dance
came not from libation.
I was entranced.

Mesmerized by gentle musical sounds;
by the cool autumn air;
by the water which holds me spellbound
and easily puts my mind there.

‘Neath the sunset I watched you,
as your soft movements swayed,
and you, moon-pulled, flowingly moved
like the rise and fall of the waves.

Captivated by that moment, I took the chance.
That’s all it meant. I just wanted to dance.

Dark Red Greeting: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

September 8, 2010

Instead of dark red/
leaves to welcome me, her hair/
greets my arrival.