I sat upon the porch today,
turning face to the sun,
feeling the warm caress of breezes
flirting with skin, tantalizing, promising.
Looking about, I sigh in sadness.
Browns, greys, mud, empty trees,
accompany the detris of winter’s end.
Things dropped, plowed under, broken and bent,
ugly reminders of weeks of cold,
land dead, beaten.
And I close my eyes, letting the undefinable
blue of perfect sky be my last vision.
And I listen.
And the world opens up in a splendor hidden
from prying eyes.
Sounds emerge suddenly, growing stronger.
Calls of a dozen birds. Building or
rebuilding, begging for love, alerting or,
just. . .singing.
Buzzing sounds? Why yes, any excuse
to waken from the icy torpor of the long night.
Flies gathering strength, basking in sunbeams.
But, yet, no crawling upon the barely thawed soil.
Dogs and cats frisky and joyful.
Let us play and dance before Creator, creating.
Listen to sounds, even the man-made, or
woman made, yes.
Hammering sounds? It is construction season
Not the shrill sound of drill, but of beak.
And the signal that life is on the move,
Canada geese, honking, demanding,
right of way.
Oh delicious sounds, making my heart
Making my spirit
Urging forth hope from a
Smells? No, not yet. Not yet.
The soil holds tight its rotted perfume.
Soon enough it will rise with the wind,
Touch is passive in this special season.
One is touched, not touching.
The soft almost pregnant air,
ripe with promise,
kissing brow and eyelid.
When it is time to re-enter the world,
Turn quickly, and enter the house.
Do not spoil the beauty by gazing.
All is still so ugly and rejecting.
Rest in the sounds, remembered,
(lest you think all is misery in the meadow!)
I really appreciate your poem, and until today something like this is really all I wanted here.
I think i am past the point where all the facts in the world will not help me. Sherry.thank you
please understand I am grateful for this
oh Dusty, you are so very welcome. I get so tired of politics and can’t bring myself to go through all that rot, which seems to freakin’ obvious to anyone with a brain. My head needs space to breathe..and sometimes so free wheeling verse soothes. Blessings, dear.
Dusty, The world loves you!. Please don’t worry!. Been there!. Wotrrying not worth it!. Everythings Cool!.
Awesome Poem, Sherry! Hit me in the right place too!.
Too early for Toads and Crickets in Northern VA too. Last of 2 foot snow just melted.
Thanks Tony, I run these off without a lot of angst, and so don’t think I’m much of a poet. I hear they have to suffer a lot in the writing, and I never do. So, I’m a hack, which is what I am at most endeavors–just a decent facsimile! lol…
Sherry, I wish I had the talent to write beautiful poetry like that. Sadly, my forte is prose.
Like I said Tom, I don’t feel I’m much of a poet. But then I used to think I was not much of a writer, and I’m slowly believing I’m somewhat talented. I guess I just think it should be hard to be good. Thanks ever so much.
Sherry, beautiful! And I will not say that I have a forte for any sort of writing, and so I am always impressed with your poetry AND prose.
Jan your writing is better than you think, and frankly, your spiritual gifts are breathtaking to me. I learn so very much from your postings.
Great post! Thanks!
Glad you liked it.