Laurel in the Moonlight
When the full moon climbs a'top the sky
And Twilight reigns all night
The shadows dance with moonlit beams
And join the woodland sprites.
The Laurel once in leather green
Lifts up a tambourine
A gypsy in a sequined dress
All silver clad is she.
As though the stars have fallen
To light up on her limbs
And sing in silent reverie
A magic winter hymn.
All glimmering and shimmering
She winks up at the trees
Who gaze down on the jewel clad lass
And whisper in the breeze.
Seashell Sky
The seashell sky
Was the sea
A thousand shades of blue
With shallows of aqua
Lapping up the shores
Of an unreachable land.
Reaches of sand spits
In powdery grey
Stretching out
And blending into violet
Divide the celestial estuary,
Across which the Wood Ducks
And Canada Geese
wheel and glide
Homeward
To the reeds and cattails
Of their nests,
And the harmony
Of Peeper Frogs and
Redwing Blackbirds
Promising the hope of Spring
In their symphony,
As the tide of the sky
Is washed in pink pearl,
And the reaches diffuse and drift
To become the giant quills
Of some great waterbird's
Flamingo pink shaft
Stretching north to south,
Floating in an aqueous pool
Of seafoam green
Edged with amethyst
Paling to grey,
As the seashell sky closes
And the colors fade
Into the silence
Of the blackbirds,
'Til the risen moon
Sits like a pearl
In a black velvet box.
Little Red Maple
Little Red Maple why do you dare
Send out your buds
when the weather's nor fair?
(Are you not aware?)
A few sunny days
never mean Spring.
Aren't you worried
'bout Winter's cruel sting?
Your blushing red flowers
will brighten the day,
But North Wind's chilly fingers
may turn their heads grey.
Your beauty will vanish,
'twould be but a waste.
Why do you bloom
in such needless haste?
Then says the tree:
You're thinking only of me!
I am no spring beauty,
I am only a tree.
And my dear feathered friends
who sing in my arms
Are short on their food stores
and might come to harm!
I must toss up my head
and dare take the risk
To send forth my flowers
though Winter's still brisk
Or there'll be nothing left
for my songbirds to find.
I must face the weather,
I've made up my mind
To bloom before flowers
would dare go outside.
They'll play in the Spring:
I'll be Winter's bride.
So before yellow mustard
and dandelion heads
Bloom in the fields,
all my birds can be fed
By my seeds as they swirl
and spiral around
In the sun, glowing silver,
pink, and light brown.
December 20: On the Edge of Winter Twilight
The velvet hem of Twilight
Descends swiftly
upon the winter fields.
My horse's flaxen mane
waves to the rhythm of her canter,
Two clouds of mist
billow from her snorting nostrils
As the fallow fields fall away
Into evening's dusky blue.
Behind me, the hackney bay pony
Keeps an even pace,
My daughter's face aglow
With stars in her own eyes.
Sighting the pond, mirror still
And holding the sky in her hand,
We halt...
Along with the snorting of horses
and the creaking of leather,
And embrace the silence of nightfall.
We strain in the fading light
To listen,
to see.
From the far reaches of unending sapphire
Comes the call of cranes,
Many cranes by call
Still invisible to see,
Until above the black, loosely frayed fabric
of the treetops
The line appears,
Smoothly sailing across the sea of sky.
Their haunting cry strikes
a memory in my heart
I cannot remember but can only feel
A mysterious longing
That makes my heart cry.
Across the the western sky
Still dimly glowing gold
Above the rim of the horizon,
And below the even star,
They journey unhindered,
Cutting the edge of darkness
To the land beyond.
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