Minnesota Spring 2017

Morning

opens

one

sleepy blue

eye

reluctant

as am I

to greet

a bone-chilling

cold

dawn

Perseverance

Despite
our
careless
callous
neglect
nevertheless
Nature
persists

Projecting again

How could I not
look at
the glowering sky,
smudged
with gray
and heavy
with rain
and not think
of the week’s 
potential worries
stresses
unseen storms
brewing

Listening

Eyes closed

I listen

to birds chatter

recognizing

robin

chickadee

mourning dove

a bee

bumbles by

sun beats

through 

my eyelids

illuminating

the very blood

in my veins

Deja vu

When the icons

of your youth

die

time spins

backward

and forward

simultaneously

and you 

catch a glimpse

of how much 

has passed

and how little

remains

Finally sunshine

My heart

soars

from cloud

to cloud

until

I land,

gleeful,

in a pool

of blue

Shivers

Lady Sun
have you 
withdrawn
to wrap yourself
in downy clouds
to ward off
the chill?

                       

Projecting

Listening
to the rain
hearing
music
a metronome
counting off
hours
hammer blows
heartbeat
tears

Day's end

At my work day’s

end

I pause

to listen

to the birds’ chatter

easy to anthropomorphize

I imagine them

busy 

with the last

of the day’s tasks

hurrying

to lay another twig

on the nest

or gobble up

another worm

Their jobs

unlike mine

are living

the daily task

of life

itself

Be

Finally

morning catches up 

to my schedule

and I awake

to blue dawn

and the morning star

Of course

Lady Sun’s

measured advance

has not altered

despite

the arbitrary

whims

of clocks

or the equally

arbitrary

rigidity

of my day’s

routine

So much of

nature

is present

while we

frantically

attempt

to plan

never

accepting

we can only

be

At Play

Lady Sun

plays

hide and seek

with the clouds

mocking

their gloomy faces

and reveling 

in her childlike side

So should we all

delight

in the child

who re-emerges

in spring

and urges us

to jump

in puddles

parade

in flower crowns

sing at the top

of our voices

play

The In Between (4/17)

In between

dark and dawn

winter and spring

apathy and action

I pause

in the slim moment

before sunrise

and listen

to birdsong

and the wakening noise

of civilization

engines purring

on the highway to the north

water rushing

in the sewers

from early risers’ showers

Above my head

a bare tree

is budding--

in my heart

a tiny bud of hope

is forming

I breathe deep

and nurture it

with a few

wondering tears