It’s been a year since my last post. Might as well go for a poem, then.

Digging down into the minutia;
crawling back out,
to bring an idea to the surface –
The goal is not necessarily the light,
it’s just the dirt layer on top.
Yet it’s still an idea,
drug up from the depths
that could be the seed
that with some sun
and some rain
and some tending
might possibly, over time,

Summer Stroll

I did not abide the sunny paths
But instead, waded through shade
Beneath boughs between swaths of green grass
The gorgeous but searing sun screened
And the cool breeze amplified under the canopy.
Across the glade, shade pool to shade pool,
I strolled to the pond, joined by bluebirds,
Red-winged blackbirds and butterflies.
Garrulous frogs croaked then splashed as I came near.
The cattails dwarfed me and
Lithe willow limbs stretched to the glassy surface.

Fickle April

Fickle April, startle me.
Spring’s shaky hold
knocked loose by the whimsy
of the jet stream,
pulling a curtain of wintry air
and icy dampness
from latitudes far to the north.

But freezing rain is no match
for the inexorable tilt of the globe
and the radiant sun, even through clouds,
draws the dandelions on —
golden lions’ teeth of my lawn.

Unheedful, the earth is verdant,
And me, I have a rain coat
and patience.

I made the questionable boast that I write poetry, and thought that I darn well better actually write something. So here is something.