I am new to writing- less then a year of poetry under this novice belt-It has become my mentor, where I write my whispers-a wise grief therapist sent me into this new land and I thrive...
our boys rising early, picking apples
in the orchard for granny's pies,
pit bull Hanna sprawled in the shade
one eye open...
sun, beginning its climb
smiles on bushel baskets half full,
two boys fooling around poking fingers
excavating abandoned worm homes,
tossing rotten apple grenades...
bites of crispins crunched,
sweet juice dribbling sticky ribbons
down superman tees,
wiped off on corduroy and Hanna's fur...
whistle from the house rouses our girl,
she nudges laughter jostling apple baskets,
granny's butter crusts rolled and waiting...
Scent Of Memories
its housekeeping chores sparkle
dewdrops on lips spruce and maple,
sun's sweet breath whispers hugs,
smiles against my breast when
I pick you up,
kiss the top of flaxen curls drenched in
rose and lavender...
the scent of your laughter, fragrant in my
shares its perfumed secrets with newly
turned earth and rainbow clouds...
a breeze of fine cotton, drying in midday sun,
wafts lilac and willow on a summer
day, drifting promises of
home baked cookies tumbling 'thru
an open window
catching a ride to heaven and beyond...
The Necessity Of Motion
wheat sways in the wind
rustled leaves at midnight
I breach its womb...
billowed breezes gather
milling daydreams a fine grain
like the wheat once harvest begins...
its final blessing
melancholy swept clean,
scent of cooling loaves drift
on weathervane's creaking sigh
the windmill comes to rest...
Pocket Full Of Posies
they played in meadow's wildest blooms,
plucking blossoms and leaves of
he dressed her curls with daisy smiles
entwined with laurel and lavender
stretched out on bentgrass tracing clouds
their honeyed song a gentle breath
scattering petals in the air...