winter silhouettes
a copse of sailboat masts cut
from the dawning sky
Whispers
lying in the grass
in quiet conversation
with the fallen leaves
–
mottled sunlight
spruce needles
murmur underfoot
Comfort
come to me softly
slip off your shoes and we’ll dance
in the evening sand
–
mid morning sun
warm black sand after
the retreating tide
Regrowth
budding at long last
relationships long buried
exposed to the light
–
tawney pine straw
a squirrel caches
his winter stores
Faith
jewel in the lotus
tibetan prayer wheels turned by
cascades of water
–
a winter dawn
snow skates across
the temple threshold
Misdirection
pulling on my hand
leading me into darkness
blind to your intent
–
autumn’s glory
reflections in
our tiny screens
War
wet and matted hair
cold rain, hot blood, and cordite
soak into the dirt
–
a sparrow-
perched on
a ruined shell
Currents
dark, ominous skies
grey terns perched on a buoy
turned to face the wind
–
roiling water
gulls soar effortlessly
above the rocky shoals
Weary
bone tired, weary
driven forward all the while
dragging this baggage
–
shimmering heat
an old prospector
pulls at his burro
Whispers
lying in the grass
in quiet conversation
with the fallen leaves
–
mottled sunlight
spruce needles
murmur underfoot
Comfort
come to me softly
slip off your shoes and we’ll dance
in the evening sand
–
mid morning sun
warm black sand after
the retreating tide
Regrowth
budding at long last
relationships long buried
exposed to the light
–
tawney pine straw
a squirrel caches
his winter stores
Faith
jewel in the lotus
tibetan prayer wheels turned by
cascades of water
–
a winter dawn
snow skates across
the temple threshold
Misdirection
pulling on my hand
leading me into darkness
blind to your intent
–
autumn’s glory
reflections in
our tiny screens
War
wet and matted hair
cold rain, hot blood, and cordite
soak into the dirt
–
a sparrow-
perched on
a ruined shell
Currents
dark, ominous skies
grey terns perched on a buoy
turned to face the wind
–
roiling water
gulls soar effortlessly
above the rocky shoals
Weary
bone tired, weary
driven forward all the while
dragging this baggage
–
shimmering heat
an old prospector
pulls at his burro
Click on a link above to see the responses or to leave one of your own!
If you’d prefer your creativity to flow unfettered, click over to Maiku.