The Cold Damp Days

My plan is to pacify with a pillow

path and a sheet-draped fort,

a book about farts — Everyone Toots

— don’t mock.

In the summertime, he plunges into bearded

iris to talk to bees,

chases white moths and listens to trees.

In the fall, he hops after crickets

and startles plopping frogs.

With this wind coming in

from the north, we are forced

into rainy day laps

racing fast, high-stepping

marches with a singing bear,

a quick-tempo dance party.

A constant flow

of  invitations

to leap and crawl,

trot and howl,

moving in our circuitous course

to the reward:

naptime,

which I’ll accept with humbled

grace and tumble

into sweet slumber

at his side.

Inspired by: Beard, Rainy, North, Pacify, Mock, and Damp.

Winter’s Song

It’s a cold frosty night

on the snow-covered fields

and the trees stand so stark and bare.

Yet I stand here so gloriously happy and free

on this star-studded, blackly-etched hill.

While you all sit inside in your cozy little cabins,

I am calling through the forest, and singing to the trees.

All around me there is life,

and my heart is filled with a song 

that you could sing along with me.

I hope that I will always feel so free,

I don’t want to grow old and cease to see

all the wonder of the winter,

the shadows on the snow

and my dreams dancing softly on the cold fresh air.

I wish that you would all just look out your windows

and drink in the dark, enchanted scene.

So it’s cold, so are you

if you won’t venture out

of your cramped, little automated shells.

Come on out and dance,

it’s a beautiful night

and I promise that your dreams will come alive.

I hope that I will always feel so free,

I don’t want to grow old and cease to see.

*I wrote this song at age 15.  Still sing it when I play my guitar.

Angels Among Us

…our mind is moved to believe angels are a normal everyday occurrence, something we see all around us. ~ Stacey Zarling

Featured Image: Winged Figure, 1889, by Abbott Handerson Thayer, oil, Art Institute of Chicago.

These wide white wings

enrapture me; she carries the past

modeling endlessly for Thayer

the solution for his quest

to capture unseeable angels.

Unsoiled by her shore-dives

she wades on long black stilts

stunning the waters with her white

reflection, emerging triumphant,

a squirming body clamped in gold.

And then, the lift-off

feathery unfurling before claiming

the air.  In her sudden

absence, the crisp fall air

illuminates the dearth of song-

birds, last night’s plummet

denying permission for those busy

summer reaches.  The sky’s empty.

This new season won’t come cheap,

as we huddle in blankets and hoodies

preparing to relight the fires

opening for true grace

to wing in to our patience

in the inner darkness,

alert for every sign.

 

Inspired by: Stunning, Cheap, Enrapture, Permission, Solution, Fall