Persephone basks

bradford-inn.jpg
Its warm,
an uncommon day in November,
the sun seeps honey and languorous
across the deep autumn landscape.

Trees fold inward, their somber winter
slumbers await.
Birds chitter and sing as if a spring day
while small furred creatures busy themselves
with the important matters of survival
and hunger.

Ice begins tonight.

Persephone basks
for one more day.

Give a Gift of Poetry

Featured

Give a Gift of Poetry from Everdale Publishing

Angel Book

2015 Books

I am proud to offer my three chapbooks of poetry to you through Lulu.com just in time for gift giving season. All three would be perfect for the holidays.

A Field Guide to Angels “In a time when we all could really use a everyman’s angel, Kathleen Gresham Everett delivers. Small gestures suddenly contain great meaning and everyday household tasks become acts of benediction. Infused with grace, reflection, and even humor, Everett’s A Field Guide To Angels lights a candle when we need it most.” Sarah Whiteley, author of Wandering Wonderful.

Festival of Lessons and Carols and Penelope to Her Husband, Poems of Myth and Fantasy, are available from Everdale Publishing through lulu.com.

The first is a compilation of my December poems for the seasons of Advent, Christmas and the winter solstice, Festival of Lessons and Carols.
The second book is Penelope to Her Husband, Poems of Myth and Fantasy, a retelling of myths, faerie tales, fables, with old and new characters that I hope will charm you. A perfect gift for friends and family. Or for when you have those quiet moments to reflect on this wonderful time of year.

The Field Guide to Angels, Penelope to Her Husband and Festival of Lessons and Carols are available at lulu.com http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/kge

I hope you will enjoy my books and I hope you know how much I appreciate your continued support of my work.

May angels surround you always,

Kathleen Gresham Everett

“The Course of Our Seasons is filled with angelic messages that await only our awareness. Even the mundane is rendered sacred in the fullness of love’s journey. Brilliant, sensitive, accessible…”  – Dr. Jim Young, author of Aware in a World Asleep

sometimes autumn

Wild geese

Springs cacophonous din of birdsong and early morning sun
has broken in two
leaving a drought poor fall
in shades of millet
and wheat, left to dry tattered in forgotten fields.
Leaves restless for wind,
skitter along the dusty path
running in packs of legless creatures
only to pause and hide
in shadowy dens against stone and steps.

Autumn brings its own season of light-
lusterless
sometimes with bright blue sky
sometimes with harsh ice
sometimes with fog filled rain
sometimes with wild song
and
strands of skeined geese
in determined flight.

Fall back

November Sunset

I work backwards
Trying to refine the confection of this day to the next.
Measuring each mote in dribs and drafts
Texturing silences with pauses and sighs
Or wringing each towel sopped with stale dregs
Dry, hanging across the scattered lines
Of words plagiarized from some old thesaurus
and soliloquy.

Now the day pours forth like honey,
Liquid amber clasping the emotions to its sticky breast.
What bee will boast of this light sweetness?
Not I, waspish and thorny,
A rose pierced to the heart with its own sword.
I relinquish the darkness that one hour holds
And cling to the ever present sunset
As dawn.

ghost (and its not what you think)

009

I still like the word ghost even
though its no longer considered correct theological
terminology.

You old Ghost, you – hanging about
reordering my dreams and rearranging
my intuition.
Its you haunting the place when I most need
a little spectral company

Keep on, Ghost.
You hypostases, coeternal, consubstantial, you.
Keep on, I pray.
Haunt on.

Copper Beeches

Copper Beeches

It is believed that one may get rid of bad luck by dropping a copper penny on the ground. The bad luck will go with the coin and be acquired by the next person to pick it up

Its not the copper in the veins of the land but the hand that hold the redeeming cents since it no longer scents the air with that just before lightning smell ozone fired kiln of oxygen hydrogen carbon, sweating against the blue of the sky, the taste of blood on the tongue.

Put the pennies over my eyes and let me rest.

The coins feel cold against my palm,
Their tarnished light gleams silver
And gold on pale skin,
Heaviness pulls me down
Until all I can do is hold
The thought of you
Against my breast
And weep.

The leaves turn to yellow and gold
Falling into the silvered season
Copper beeches drift in the north wind
Drawing the sound of autumn with it
Casting golden coins before the fall.

(revised)

woodsmoke and autumn prayers

Rainy Day - Table Rock Lake

Thudding of heavy rain
against the tin roof
deep as thunder,
as the chill arrives carried
on the back of the north wind
and the wings of geese
fleeing south.

Black winged clouds
dark as ravens eyes,
chase the day away west
and down the ridge
into dark hollows and deep ferned rests
of wildings and heavy furred souls.

Scent of woodsmoke
curls up from unseen hearths
where bright fires catch the last of the sun,
warming benches and tidy rooms
hidden from all but wide eyed owls
roosting til moonrise.

I watch the clouds spill over the ridge
and into my kitchen
deepening the dark of autumn,
my dusk and evening prayers.