December 28, 2012 Sunday Whirl #89

IMG_7529The Landscape of My Mind

Each day begins a new
The sun rises above the mountain
Promises delivered to a new world
Yet each day ends
Spectacular sunset
World in flame

Year’s end lies
In tangent with the
Beginning of the newyear
Endings and beginnings
The perfect pair
The work of the old year
Folded away
Neatly labeled
A completion of sorts
Or perhaps just a link in the chain

On winter’s night
The Rio Pueblo
The creek in the woods
Settles in for a winter’s nap
Blanketed with ice and snow
Reflects sparkle of stars
Named for ancestors

Wishes, hopes, and desires are kneaded
Into the bread of a newyear
Against adversity
The perfect loaf formed
The path will be strewn with missteps
No need to brood
The point of faith is fixed
POP! A new year is here

Note:  against, creek, ice, deliver, pop, point, tangent, flame, stars, knead, brood, strewn

As I looked closely at the photograph I had chosen for the piece, I realized it was taken several years ago.

The Little Tree
The little tree stands
Leafless in the corner
Of the courtyard
The village beyond

It is morning
The sky ablaze announcing
The sun

A white blanket of snow
Covers the ground
What sleeps beneath
Prepares for spring

I look closely
I realize
There is no tree
In that corner

The picture I see
Exists only in my mind’s eye

The tree was removed
After the furry kitty
Lost an eye
Because of the stickers

The little tree
A red plum
I will always see
Stand before the deep blue mountain
In memory of you

Sunday June 24, 2012 Sunday Whirl #62

Memory of Southern Still Life

Open the window

In floats the heavy sweet scent

Of magnolia and jasmine

The memory scraps

A part of the montage

That was my first life

Ample and flawed

Demons like insects

Trapped in amber

Chiseled in granite

“Still Life”

My domain was bracketed

By the whistle from the train

Lonely sound

Heard each evening

Just about sunset

March 6, 2012

Spring Time in Taos

or
Happy Birthday Spring

Some came reciting their verses
Learned in Sunday school
Others came in search
Of silent, secret, invisible words
To tell a new story
A new life
In a new world

Sir Robin Redbreast
Flew to the window
Wants to come in
Feathers glistened in the
Waning afternoon sunlight

Shadows lengthened
Tops of dark green pine trees
Still loaded with rich red cones
Snow in ragged patterns
Snuggle at the base of chimisa
Sounds of music muffled low
Announces season’s change
New beginning, birth, renewal
We give life another go