Tag Archives: seasons

Poem, where will you go?

Poem, where will you go? The reddish leaves fall, meeting the first frost the way noun meets verb, neither on tree nor ground but somewhere in between, the moment of mystery in which all fates collide. Poem, you will soar … Continue reading

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Summer’s Lease

Summer’s Lease The honeyed buzz of locusts wrings desire from the night’s dark wanting. Cradled in summer, too hot to sleep, they enter the rubbing of wings. Soon, in the frost’s fierce grip, the cabbage moths will cease scrubbing the … Continue reading

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Summer it seems

Summer it seems is over — children back to school, leaves dropping careless on the lawn, roses laced with Japanese beetles. Petunias nod in their sad pots, and purple coneflowers talk among themselves of their imminent demise. The hydrangeas are … Continue reading

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Bird, Singing

Bird, Singing A cold spring sidles in after months of white buried all living things, from roses to mice. Now, when the sun opens pale fingers, a patch of mud appears. Weeds line the ice-cracked pavement like dead lace on … Continue reading

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How to Be Unnecessary

How to Be Unnecessary The nests began this lesson months ago, settling in the crotches of trees. In spring, deep cups were readied with grasses and twigs, burrows dug in-ground, knotholes furnished, chambers drilled in cacti, shelves wattled with mud, … Continue reading

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Dahlias

Dahlias Today I looked at the photographs of last summer’s dahlias, brash faces crowding a London garden with lemon and magenta, a folly of profusion. How I needed those deep colors turning to the sun, breaking through the pinpoint English … Continue reading

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Summer’s Lease

Summer’s Lease The honeyed buzz of locusts wrings desire from the night’s dark wanting. Cradled in summer, too hot to sleep, they enter the rubbing of wings. Soon, in the frost’s fierce grip, the cabbage moths will cease scrubbing the … Continue reading

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Hunger

Hunger The moon consumes first the white-hot souffle of summer, then the orange omelet of fall. Winter becomes lemon-ice scooped in crystal, carried to the lips in spoons of the family silver. Spring will bring mud and blossoms, meringue sugaring … Continue reading

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Lost Season

Trees leaped orange today where mere blue looked on, windstruck. The lawn shone green and tangerine. Autumn has deplaned. Gold exhales brown. The peacock summer spills into the fox’s den. Soon grey-veined winter will burrow into the violet heart of … Continue reading

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