AUTUMNAL

A lonesome bird sings the evensonghis frantic wings beating towards home.I count my treasures in the darkwhere suggestible senses hold little sway.Moments tumbled through my fingers,flickering shadows danced by candlelight.Would that I could keep only joyful moments;somehow laughter and tears look alike in the lens of time.Could a rose be parted from her thorns and

TO A HYDRANGEA PAST ITS PRIME

You have lost the vibrance of your huesYour blushing pink, sweet lavender, or sky blueHave long faded into sage green leavingFaint traces of what you once wereHinting of what will be. Veins on your petals writeAll the summer days and all the stormy daysThat deepened your roots. You have changedYou are changingYet in this world

SEASONS

Sunflower, bent with age, lets fall her seedsSeptember brought the chill to August’s swelter Summer’s grandeur is on the wane, and ISquirrel away its taste and fragrance Serene is the sunlight filtering through the windowShining on memories Songs and words have forgottenSolitude hovers in the horizon Sparrows dance a merry dance for the seeds in

WHEREVER THE SUNFLOWERS ARE

Wherever the sunflowers are is summer calling the butterflies to feast and the gold finch to sing Wherever the sunflowers are is cheer neither night nor stormy days could dim Guileless faces, untouched by care, in their heart is the certitude the sun is always there.

SUMMER

Summers are made of these – butterflies frolicking in the sun zucchini growing on the ground barefoot children playing in the yard swooping on brambles like hungry birds grabbing berries with eager hands popsicles dripping on sweaty chin children dancing under the summer rain Written for DVERSE POETS’ Quadrille prompt: Bramble

TREASURES

My treasures are a visual prayer my eyes delight to see: a garden full of flowers a pocketful of butterflies, flying free; broken seashells smelling of the shore flowered teapots from days of yore cards and notes bearing good wishes faded photos of familiar faces Then, there’s the warmth of sunshine and the freshness of

WILDFLOWER

Not the queenly rose that rules a garden not the pristine lily that adorns saintly hands not the cheerful sunflower, nor fragrant jasmine but a wildflower, unheralded, unseen, I am. Obscurity is the meadow where I grow The wealth of the earth is my bed I dream beneath the stars’ watchful glow and wake to

WAITING

Wake me up when the September moon rises. Kiss my brows with dew and my lips with the fragrance of lilies and,  like a young butterfly testing its wings, My eyes will flutter seeing its first light In you, glowing with Autumn’s crimson blush And my heart will quicken at the first stirring of love Singing

TIME-RIDERS

Darkness dances in the margins. Shadows lengthen. Wildflowers, shed their blooms, one by one and the meadows echo with the wind’s sighs. Geese, once more, darken the blue skies punctuating their flight with honking cries. The world turns never going back to where it began and we are all its passengers. Where do we go

LOVELINESS (for Lens-Artists Photo Challenge #54-Detail)

Petals pool on the ground Time is passing by Flowers droop, one last bow But the dragonfly wings glisten And the sunfish flit in the pond The ugly duckling is becoming a swan Fireflies light the summer nights And tomorrow, dew will bathe the dawning skies. Loveliness happens Even as flowers die.   Last week,