A Winter’s Memory
Remember when
the grass was dry
and branches barren
of leaves
when cold winds
whipped through
underbrush
and nipped at
fingertips and nose
Remember hard ground
beneath your back
as you stared up
at wandering white
as cold seeped through
clothes and skin
to cause quaking tremors
Run Ragged
Sometimes you
have to wear out
the little one
to get a little bit
of piece and quiet
all your own
to bask
in the sunshine
and enjoy
a few minutes
of relaxation
Good Ideas
Yes…
this is true
more trees
need to
hug a logger.
And perhaps
squeeze
just a little
too tight.
I promise
to cry for them
just as I do
for the trees.
The Mysterious Farmer
Fresh paint
and a newly tended field
and yet
never a soul in sight
Who cares for the farm
in the forest valley
and do they only
work at night?
Always well kept
tidy and clean
and yet not a soul around
surely it’s not ghosts
that do all the work
and yet not a soul is seen
Let It Rain
Let clouds dip
closer to earth
heavy with moisture
ready to be released
let the chill wash
of rivulets and drips
slide down over
flesh and hair
and each
blade of grass
to clean away
the old and create
something
fresh and new
The Little Queen
Giants grow
fat and tall
flanking
and trying
to overpower
to take the show
and snag attention
but sometimes
it’s not about
how much you’ve got
but rather
what you do
with what you have
Twisting the Leaf 