Pausing for Poetry

Hello out there in the Blogosphere...I'm taking a little hiatus to work on a poetry project that requires my undivided attention.

I'll be back in a few weeks to divulge the details. Until then remember...

All You Need Is Love

Love Is All You Need

Reduced to a Fit of Giggles

I'm currently hiding out in the reference section of my local county library. Like most libraries, it's a peaceful place, quiet but not tomb like. I'm a patron here solely for the wifi...there, I admit it.

After working diligently for an hour or so, I have been transported to elementary school where I was continually reprimanded for giggling behind my raised textbook. Why?

Let's start with a confession...I'm fond of cursing. A well-placed curse word (or string of curse words) with the appropriate inflection and body language can spice up a story and/or drive home a point better than a heat-seeking missile.

What does this confession have to do with the library you ask? For the past 30 minutes, the quiet stillness has been sporadically infused with an enthusiastic outburst of "fuck", "f", "uck" or my favorite, "fuck fuck". It is my guess that someone with Turret's Syndrome is happily working away at a distant table in this bastion of books.

I say, "Bravo sir...carry on!"

Three Herons

Three herons
float low over the woods
searching for still water
after the rains

A calm place
to rest, to sink their toes
into the soft mud
and stay awhile

The trio drifts downward
toward the lake,
the curve of their wings
an arching eyebrow

Oh, if only I could witness
their graceful glide
over the surface,
the single ripple
of their choreographed landing

Three herons
stand, watch, wait,
motionless near the shore
a redbud showers
tiny purple blossoms around their shoulders
the water lays a banquet
at their feet

A Lost Spring

As I lay sleeping,
a storm rolled past
the meninges,
invading my dreams

Slashing winds spoke to the trees,
bend or be broken
trees spoke to the birds,
leave your nest and flee

Partners, lightning and thunder
flashed their message of terror,
trumpeted their battle cry
as they advanced across the night sky

As I lay sleeping,
a treaty burned
in the deserted streets
of a charred village

What price too great for a lost spring?