Category: Poem
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With its secret dances
Come in, with your body and its whispered dreams I will not breathe a word come in, bring its needling anguish, its yokes and shackles, the chains and burdens that make it stumble its tears that stream without permission bring in your body with its fine, secret dances in meadows…
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One by one,
One by one, winter lifts its long fingers from the deep freeze where they have grown, collecting crystals month by month with its diamond file sharpens them precisely then slips out to test an edge on the skin of our necks and back it goes sitting in the shimmering dark…
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Small offerings
The night’s small offerings to the road are easy to lift: wrapped in a leaf or carried on a bier of two stout twigs an empty drink cup in the ditch will do if a scoop is needed Their still, often neat bodies of feathers and beaks of claws and…
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My sleep is like
pearls on a worn string slipping down the line from one hour to the next of jewelled slumber but in between a frayed cord of anxious waking, hot turning, grasping for a lifeline that my sweaty touch disintegrates, dreams clattering to the floor and here I am again, awake ~~~
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The fabric of the world
in the hammock in the shade in the clearing in the woods with me a small mosquito, two birds nearby a shushing wind the bleats of sheep car on the road woodpecker knocking: rooster crows 30 feet above my head four maples meet and swing their greens in a blue…
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Hot or cold
I don’t want to post only my happy poems, but when I read I do not always want to be dragged into the muck of someone else’s fear without warning. Warning: This is my fear. Wear your tall boots. Love, Ellen ~~~ How does anyone sleep through global warming how…
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Rhyming couplets for unmatched snowflakes
Snow and snow is all I know It comes and stays and doesn’t go It bundles me in peace and calm The days so short the dark nights long We play a bit and rest much more Our weary bodies we restore Snow and snow I’m glad to know It’s…
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Sums done in the heart
One, one and one equals three if you think mathematically. But sums done in the heart have a subtler art – Hazel plus Mabel plus me. ______________________________ Hazel and Mabel are the cats I live with, who have just turned 12 and 7 years old respectively. This is their annual…
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Morning air:
Morning air: thick weave of song – tiny frogs pulse news of earth’s beginnings ____________________
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