Posts Tagged ‘trees’

The Trees seem to beckon

as the Sun sinks low,

but the Heat keeps me apart

from the World I’d like to know.

 

Clouds, obscure! Sun, blink!-

for a short Moment-

so I may venture,

and- no more- lament.

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I never knew that

opening the white door,

leaving the painted white porch,

and walking into the grass,

into the trees, out

onto the hill,

would open up a new world for me-

one that was not even far

from home-

until I did so.

I cherish this moment:

when the wind rolls in

with floral perfume,

when the grass bends-

as if in genuflection- and ripples,

when the birds warble

and their chirps burst like bubbles

and their piccolo-bones sound

their ascent,

when the children’s laughs echo

and fill emptiness where the birds and wind cannot,

when the trees seem to be carved rocks,

and their buds burst into bloom like fireworks,

when the flowers split into color and scatter

adding new shades with the buds of the trees.

This moment is

exquisitely orchestrated.

Life stretches toward both horizons

The dog excitedly barks at children across the street

Wind stirs curtains, leaves

Spruce branches sway like green tentacles

Birds peel their old plumage and blow their flutes

The robin inflates its heart

Clouds coalesce and disperse like cottonwood seeds

Sky opens and closes its perforated maw

Hours are marked by color and the sun’s position

Rain falls

Horns blare

Sprouts greenly fork out of soil

Wind ebbs and flows

Flowers brighten

Each horizon darkens to be lit again

This morning is christened with sunlight.

Winter has turned the grass from emerald to gold.

Clouds and sky are inseparable,

their hues mix to palest blue.

Trees are awakened by gentle rushes of wind,

their branches wave like a parent

waves good-bye to their child on their first day of school.

The light comes and goes. It makes the grass shine,

remaining snow twinkle, street glisten, trees glow.

gold sun could lock

an eye blink orange

lozenge of trees break to fence

green cones spindles undulate wind

black streaks crows in streams geese

meadows pale gold flat iron yellow

white teardrops splash pile

trickle trickle

away


Today I’ve written for you what has been deemed a “Language Poem”, popularized by Gertrude Stein.

The intent here is to focus not on the meaning of words, but the way they sound.

I had forgotten the feeling spring instilled in me-

a giddiness, the desire to move.

The desire to clean the dust off the bike no one rode,

and to fill the tires until their dark cheeks could burst,

and set out with the gravel crunching underneath,

the trees and fields passing as gray and yellow blurs.

 

I had also forgotten the scent of spring-

crisp earthiness spiraling up from the ground.

The sun pulls back the curtain of snow,

and the scent rises in spirals, the sun

helping it on its way.

This is what instilled in me

that sense of adventure, that desire

to move forward.