Spring’s anthem


Sun over cattails, Copyright Silverleaf 2016

Bluebell carpets grace tree shadows now
Another verse in spring’s anthem

Flowers, earth-sprung, where yesterday saw none
Another verse in spring’s anthem

Bird-trills lullaby evening’s slow-sinking sun
Another verse in spring’s anthem

North Wind lifts and lilts last year’s fattened cat tails
Another verse in spring’s anthem

Stark lace-patterned trees tie mud to sky
Another verse in spring’s anthem

This fair-weather season, wild and new,
Just another verse in spring’s anthem.

A call-and-response poem for NaPoWriMo day 26.

Rain two ways

Spring Rains

Along canal lane ways and byways
between quickening lilac bushes and cherry trees
(their coming glory subtle yet,
spring unfurls
sweet and rain-drenched
chasing worms from black soil
heralding fresh greens
coaxing slow-bursting buds
the soft damp
but for the living trail
it spreads in its wake.

Drought Rains

When the rains come
they overwhelm in torrents
dry ochre sands run blood-red
an upwelling from Earth’s heart
their paths etch across the miles
river beds shadow-darken
an unnatural seepage
until finally, flowing
they transform the land
drawing animal forms
up and out and into being
carelessly they cavort at water’s edge
at their feet, a carpet of soft hues
bursts forth
filling the space to the horizon
this celebration of life
is fleeting.

Two rain poems for NaPoWriMo’s day 22 Earth Day prompt.

Urban thaw

Birdsong staccato fills morning’s blue-lit glow
trills weaving in and out
through rippling-drip-trickling

These spring-melt days turn the cityworld
to lakes and streams
gardens to muddy continents
(nature dismantles order)
snow-heaped mountains shrink and recede
gathering grit into their folds

This new season tilts sunward
warming, the light golden again

We wade through light and water

Garden, Robert Street

The world kept spinning, kept singing,
though in the garden, time immediate
seemed to stand still.
I held my breath —
flower-scented, earth-warm —
stood beneath a sky washed pale
with evening’s light.

My eyes travelled the length of each leaf
lighting soft as baby’s breath on petals,
travelling pallets of multicolour hues.
In this secret garden
I drank in the peace,
sweet as flower nectar,
while the world fell away.

A small bird settled atop the fence;
motionless, we watched each other
both imagining ourselves invisible
and eternity passed between us.
His tiny black eyes stared unflinching
but when finally I blinked,
I found he had gone.


It drips
off the eaves
darkens patches
on trees
glistens, shining
on lampposts,
leaving them slick.

in the sunlight
keeping time
(its own Major)
the water drums
from gravel
to grass.

From everywhere
the sound
its staccato
beating an uneven
bidding us march
to the wet