An amber sunrise into the amethyst sky
Greeted by ablutions of atonement
For the winter winds
Artemisia, agapanthus, artichoke ferns
Abound at the altar of Artemis
As she dances by
In the absolute astonishment
Colors recede into the waters fall
Casting the depths into shadow
Singed fingers of sunlight
Echo across the last faint reflections
Settling into the corners of the day
Twilight fills in and pushes past the horizon
Until at last, the gleam of silvered corona
Is seen in the western sky
Floating in deepest celestial blue
The quiet of the slender crescent
As she holds the old moon in her arms
Dang if she did’n run off
Looks so sweet and all
But she can traipse down the ridge
And disappear quicker ‘n a wild hog
Left me here
Cryin’ in the ice and snow
And jes look at them poor old daffs
Layin’ down liken they was dead
But she’ll be back, I reckun
Yep, no doubt about it
She’ll saunter in here
Lookin’ all innocent
And fresh as a new born calf
Smellin’ of lilacs and dog roses
With a circle of sweet grass in her hair
You bet she’ll be back
Actin’ like she had no idea
We was lookin’ for her
Spring – oh, yeah, she’ll be back.
>> Ellen’s beautiful poem brought this to mind today http://ellenolinger.wordpress.com/2013/03/12/haiku-and-tanka-poems/
Room of eleven windows
White cotton curtains
Framing the water view
A jar to hold moonbeams
Should I care to catch them
A water nymph, the River Man’s Daughter
Beloved faces in frames
Books stacked on the flea market shelf
Bead board painted samovar silver
And ceiling of palest lavender hue
Where the dawn greets me each morning
And the stars bid me sweet dreams
*** The third and final poem of Home – variations on a theme.
Our first house was a cottage
Built in the 1940s
Our first married playhouse
So cold that one winter
I nailed quilts over the windows
To keep us warm
Our second house was grander
Built in the 1920s
Extravagant with porches
And the perfect room
For the Christmas tree
Our third house was an A frame
In the Arkansas woods
Tiny and cozy
Where I learned the ways
And you held siskins in your hand
Our fourth house was magic
1880s farm house and seven acres
Filled with angels
And falling stars
Where I lost and found myself
Walking in the sassafras woods
Our fifth house, will this be our last?
Probably not, by choice or by necessity.
A house of comfort and hospitality
Summer camp and friends’ B&B
Lucky enough to be by the water
And facing the rising sun.
But were these truly home?
Each held our days and years
Our hopes and dreams.
But no, not my home, my love,
My true and precious home
Is only in your loving embrace.
*** Second in the series – variations on the theme – Home
Ancient continental spine with eastern sisters
Rising from the Green Mountains
To the smoother Ouachitas.
Her land deep rutted, hollows
Carved by millennial glacial ice
Cut deep, retreating from steep ridges,
Eagles nest aeries perched
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 my promise land.
She is my home, ancient and new,
From her craggy breast and sassafras woods
She calls me
**** This is the first of three poems- variations on the theme of ‘Home’. I have only posted this poem to the dVerse prompt, but welcome you to read the others if you wish.
On the ridge, heading to work.
I know so many of you, Dear Readers, have had all this white stuff you can stand this year. But this is really our first nice snow in several years. It is the heavy, wet, fluffy kind of snow that covers everything so beautifully – makes the ridges and hollows a winter fairie land. And it will be gone tomorrow! That is springtime in the Ozarks and just another day in the course of our seasons.
wanderers far from home-
creatures of the sea and sky –
white gulls cry above the cove
small schooling fish -
ripple the waters surface-
reflecting clouds and white feathers of gulls
bright white in the setting sun-
seabirds wheel and swoop -
above the darkening cove
A large flock of gulls has moved into our little cove the last two weeks. We have had a few in late winter before, but never this number. I love to hear their sharp cries and watch as they hover over the water and then dive to catch the schooling fish.
I wonder how long they will stay….