Spring’s Broken Wings

Spring’s Broken Wings homeless, broken-winged birds forgotten ones of spring sing sweetest, endless song the one I speak of      (I wonder if you know her—             she has no nest             no place to rest             her head) a beautiful melody rings through...

In April (poem)

In April surprised by any old thing that should uproot itself and subvert the winter awakening to newness from sleep surprised each morning I, too, awake  words– thrown away by winds souls– slaughtered  by hatchets see—    but don’t see my heart left me—...

Southern Spring

The trees are already dressed in early spring shades of green. The skies are a clear, bright blue, the sun is shining golden. The weather is perfect; warm but not too warm, with the brush of gentle breezes. Spring is awake and alive in mid-April in the deep...

Maple Trees, Maple Sugaring, and Soul-Extracting

I didn’t plan to write about trees. It just so happens I saw a poem about willow trees on a website, and a corresponding article about willow trees and aspirin, which prompted me to write about willow trees here. I happened to come across a poem (posted near the...

May and Spring Poetry

“For winter’s rains and ruins are over, And all the season of snows and sins; The days dividing lover and lover, The light that loses, the night that wins; And time remembered is grief forgotten, And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, And in green...

Somewhere, Winter is Dying

    *   Somewhere, winter is dying Winter is dying somewhere * We know it is time. The apple barrel is nearly empty And I am no longer muffled by the snow. * I am not sure what to do when spring comes; will I know where to step, will I sink in the grass...

Spring, Daffodils, Clouds – two poems

I can see a slight tinge of yellow on the daffodils, and though the winter cold is still lingering on, I know that spring is on its way. To celebrate the arrival of spring, and because April is National Poetry Month, here a couple of poems written by William...

Over the Land is April

Over The Land Is April – Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson   Over the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me, Hear my sonnets ring? Over the high, brown mountain, Love, do you...

Waiting

Waiting White bell-shaped blooms bend slightly Paying homage to depths beneath Crisp grass forged upward Through a deep darkness By a cataclysmic split Of a tiny seed The ground brims With tiny creatures wiggling Rummaging about the vastness Of open space, displaced...