the green wall is back
trees working hard through the night
birds seek their shelter
the green wall is back
trees working hard through the night
birds seek their shelter
It could have been
a silver mercury portrait,
but a horse appeared
displacing stiff poses,
mane flying, neck muscles
bunched in effort,
galloping through
a glimpse of the past.
Audio: Read by the author.
____________________________
A marvelous photo of a Morgan mare by the photographer Deborah Glessner brought up the last two lines of the poem.
he darts in and sips
she drinks at rest savoring
I welcome them back
Small joy in bird song
Hold tight the reins of longing
Imagine us whole
Plants starting from seed
Soil enriched by love
Summer will bring light
Warmth in ersatz spring
Mountains tap their memories
There will be more snow
Tomorrow it might have been fifty-two
not just thirteen years since our thirty-ninth
Aligned with family and gratitude
the day always reflected joy,
the heat of our love folded into stuffing
The missing of him has gotten harder
but it seems he knows. I came upon
the sound of his small gasp
that wrapped me up each time
in beauty gauze, when finally ready
I presented myself to his gaze
before our evenings out.
Deliciousness itself, just knowing
that he would when I did, and
that he always meant it.
And I can smile now, the memory
a pitch perfect gift.
.
.
Audio: Read by the author.
Walk the hills to home
Where love is found ripening
The true birthday gift
And she was still here
Sipping nectar for her trip
End of summer gift
Audio: Read by the author.
Dog rests on my foot
Gray rain and cooling to fall
Hummers are still here
Few bugs eager dogs
Humid air stuck somewhere else
Out the door to woods
In song, music puts its hands around my heart and my words think tears are a puddle to splash through, shoeless. Color often stops my breath, and I am its willing prisoner. A sudden memory coming on fast might need release. Any of these call up joy or tears, and it is all wonderful. To me. When the signal comes they might glide to me in a waltz, or whirl up on the skirts of a wild mazurka. Better yet, ride in on the smoothness of an alto sax.