across the morning cove
skipping and hopping
with the cool breeze
playing ring around the rosie
with the shy sweet peas
She brings me a gift
of a ravens feather,
this pale child of my heart.
Her burdens are heavier
than a blackbirds cries
but she has the strength
of wings and flight.
This beloved child of my heart,
she brings me the gift
of a ravens feather.
*** For my beautiful niece, Kathleen Rose.
I was laughing this morning – Are we the only family that brings each other gifts of nests, feathers, stones, shells, bones – even cow teeth? There may be something odd with us – but we love all the beautiful bits of nature that we find.
twilight lingers in the treetops
the dog and I try not to stare
as the bats give web wing into the beckoning air
such grace and sturdy stretch of flesh and bone
un-feathered bird and night masked soul
they blindly dance into the paths of stars
the dog and I walk the violet deepening path
lanterns of fireflies inflame the slim crescent moon
casting reflections of the once and future dawn
she is the mirror of the suns musings
choicest tomes are recited in her presence
while bashful boys make cow eyes at her pale face
and swear oaths to her silvered beauty
the dog and I loiter in the glimmering dusk
listening to the poetry of wing and moon
waxing and waning
as we slowly make our way home
in the darkling summer night
morning clouds smooth out the blued eyed sky
shaking out the nights wrinkled sheets of stars
and wandering constellations
lifting the heavy white curtains
of fragrant lilies
sending their fresh washed scent
across the dawning day
humid haze catches the mist
and the swallows hovering over the still water
in the summer meadow
dew spangled webs
glisten in the crystal light
the magic of a summer morning
It’s a beautiful morning nearing the end of June – and the garden has gotten that lived in look.
The Columbine have gone to seed, the seed was harvested (could have used a combine they were so thick!) and the spent plants are cut back.
Now, mostly cool greens of different shades and textures will dominate the garden for the rest of the summer. But there will always be spots of color- and at the moment, the day-lilies are taking the stage. I love their form and sparkling colors – and we have one variety that gives the sweetest scent in the evening.
I have a few cosmos and larkspur showing up from seed broadcast last summer – one never knows what will or won’t do. And a friend planted love in the mist in her garden – so delicate and charming a plant – I will have to try those next year. (What?!! – already dreaming of next years garden!smiles)
I hope you are enjoying the beauty of summer in a garden – wishing you joy and peace – K
Ancient continental spine
her land deep rutted, hollows
cut deep, retreating from steep ridges,
above ageless streams and rivers.
She is my home
Not born but adopted
child of hard scrabble rockfilled ridges
and deep green spring cooled hollows.
I have felt her heartbeat
from the instant my foot touched
her hard soil
and my eyes saw
a color not known until that day -
of her October sky.
I was beckoned as if I knew her
and my soul was drawn to this promised land.
She is my home, ancient and new,
from her craggy stone breast
and fragrant sassafras woods
she calls me-
we took the long way home
following the hailstorm
front moving east across the ridges
deep blue clouds receded
thru the winding forest road
the smell of torn vegetation
leaves stripped from trees
limbs hanging, dangling from trunks
sun glared low in the west
an interloper in the woods
canopies opened to the harsh light
where just moments before
green shade thick with foliage
kept watch over the hidden hollows
energy stripped green from
deep blue bruises an affront
with each movement
a clot, an interloper
we search our way
through deep woods
traveling with her
on her long way home