Last Dog

Posted on June 4, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

I read

A Question of Time by Kathleen A. Dale

and wonder if he is Last Dog

this small warm body snuggled against my hip

safe and snoozing

after a days ordeal at the vet office

where injections were given

and instructions read

but there is no quick relief

for his suffering

he looks to me for comfort

and I weep in grief

for our parting

many years in the future

only a question of time

I was very moved by this poem posted by Rattle Magazine today,https://www.rattle.com/a-question-of-time-by-kathleen-a-dale/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+rattle%2FCNOS+%28Rattle%3A+Poetry+for+the+21st+Century%29

moonsick

Posted on May 23, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

her face so bright

peering from the top most branches

of the black walnut tree

last night

she kept me

sleepless

wandering the dark garden

companion to hooting owls

and rustling creatures in shadowed bamboo

this morning, moonsick and lazy

in the hot spring sun

longing for her face

and another sleepless night

fence bed

Posted on May 11, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

laid bare, with jutting rocks exposed

only soil left, tilled and furrowed

detritus of years neglected

laced with vines and broken glass

bits of crockery and plastic wheels

of toy trucks long gone

vanquished by Spring’s lengthening hours

rake, shovel and glove

the fence bed will be softened by mulch

and hydrangeas

its poverty now enriched with sweat

and composted manure

unfilling

Posted on May 10, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

afternoon light changing in waves

tidal pool of hours

filling and unfilling

unfilling as emptying

but time does not fill or empty

there is always a reckoning

of dusk

then twilight

then owl call

then darkest night

when the black moon pulls hours

in her tides

and unfills the day

a day just like today

Posted on May 7, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

like petrichor or gloaming or maybe alpenglow

there should be a name

for days such as this

a particular way to frame a morning

so that you could just say

this

and everyone would immediately remember

a singular shining glow

the scent of the breeze

and sound of the wind

whispering thru the springing light

of a day

just like today

stigmata

Posted on April 27, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

I dream of roses blooming

Red, so deeply perfumed,

heady with fragrant spice.

Their petals bleed across my chest,

stigmata of blood soft petals

pooling into rivers deep and wide, so wide

I lose the receding shore

until the ocean draws closer

and I inhale sticky salt air

filled with the scent of roses,

drowning pools of bloom

earth day 2021

Posted on April 22, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

the seeming randomness of so many things

makes it feel as though chaos and chance

are the only demi-gods in the revolving door

pitching ideas and sending up trial balloons

into ether and sky and hearts and minds

but we all see patterns of creation sparked

by vernal resurrection that can only be

a divine hand painting the hillsides in green

and delicate violet

Eleven Syllables

Posted on April 16, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

lunette light
between new green leaves
noonday sun

aperture
light filters below
greening woods

refracting
shadow and sunlight
preening woods

frog song heard
from shadowy pools
afternoon tune

water's scent
creekside breeze rises
cooling dusk

whats for dinner

Posted on April 15, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

lying on the old sofa in the screened porch

my view is of the tree tops

bold black strokes of a calligraphers pen

drawing thick trunks and long limbs

across a carolina blue sky

filled in with sponged leaf and green buds

interrupted by fat chenille bumbles bouncing

against the screen

and the fussing of wren parents going on about whose turn it is

to feed the hungry littles

soft spring breezes from an april I’ve never lived

in my previous lives rocks me gently in this spacious afternoon

but now its five o’clock and the rumble of a late day train

shakes me from this reverie as the small dog tunes

to the trains whistling call

and I rise to rummage through the pantry

for the makings of the evening dinner

Song of the widow maker

Posted on April 11, 2021 by The Course of Our Seasons

the wind chanted

to the widow-maker

down down down

from high in the old oak

I heard the song they sang together

wind and limb and tree

and earth

finally earth, earthbound and severed

its life of danger

now splintered broken on the ground

its coda, bright flame

cold ash

thecourseofourseasons

Observations from the Ozarks

Category Archives: Nature