Each Day Another Day of Green/ dVerse

EACH DAY ANOTHER DAY OF GREEN

green                the pantone color of the year 2017                   today is rains               

thunder in the mountains         lost from view                          in cool gray mist                     

new green reaches up               for precious water            i used to say to myself           

when it thundered in the afternoon      “the old man clears his throat”    Rip Van Winkle

plays bowling with his pals       slept too long                           awoke to a new day

life in the desert is grateful       for any moisture           the plants know what to do     

and grow profusely                  until the sun comes                 out hot and dry                 

the soil is soaked          water stands in small puddles             catching every drop

you might even see a toad or two         soon enough    the water will be evaporated by the sun

days are sunny              in the desert                             the normal way of being is dry

dry as a bone                dries everything to be found there        hard to dig holes         

ground so hard             hard to plant                            man or beasts                                      

best to burn/spread ashes         toss them to the wind               and wait for their return

May 9, 2017                           

                                                                                   

THE ORIGINS OF STORIES/ THE SUNDAY WHIRL -- PARCHED BY THE SUN/ SUNDAY'S WHIRLIGIG -- POETS UNITED POETS PANTRY

THE SUNDAY WHIRL:

THE ORIGINS OF STORIES

where do stories begin            what are their origins                  in darkness and shadows         

the cave of dreams                  in the thin light of morning          difficult to remember           

(put back together)                  or shall we dig in the ashes       after the fire has burned itself out

cold and lonely                         use ash to create words             make pictures              

or count the rings of a tree       or its’ limbs                                each one a story to tell 

                                   

born of spirit                             as well as material body            do we carry stories

folded in each tiny cell             or…are the origins found in rain      as it falls from the roof

one drop at a time                    imitating the beat of the heart           the punch line

each drop touch-lands              on the surface of the water       rings radiate out                      

each one bigger than the last     suddenly the story snaps into place     with a spirit of its’ own

May 6, 2017

                                               

SUNDAY’S WHIRLIGIG:

         PARCHED BY THE SUN

spring finds                clover and milkweed                      up to my knees

butterflies flutter       the sun warm on my skin                 tiny red lady bugs                

crawl over green leaves   the drifts of snow melted           nothing old

all is new                    tulips flare in the garden                  red, yellow and pink

their time glorious     but brief                                            for us the same                             

it is may                      the month of your birth                    all things perish

even now                   the tulips once bright                         are beginning to fade

in memory                  i gaze into your eyes                         see the boy you were

will always be            you smile back at me                        point to my heart

and to your own         the once fresh air grows thick         sun begins to parch

May 5, 2017               

           

                                   

On the Far Side of the World/ Poets United --Midweek Motif -- dVerse-- May 2, 2017

                ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE WORLD

living on the far side of the world                    i look out                     see the familiar landscape

the mountains stand                                         the sky big                    an abstraction in all directions

the land is as it always has been                        the river runs full         at this time of year

some of my neighbors                         descendants of dinosaurs           have returned

i scan the horizon                     there is new green on the mountains     the time of year is spring

the sun moves through the sky                         still morning                 time is readable

all the latest from washington               it is hard to get the news           from here

i click on the radio                               still hard to get the news           i am left wondering

what’s happening today                        fake news is one thing              real news is another

May 2, 2017