Blog Archives
Sweet Nothings
SWEET NOTHINGS
In soft silent snowflakes
The Great swirls all around us
Whispering sweet nothings
Intended for no ears but those
Of all these ancient trees
And – if I attend – mine
Aftermath
AFTERMATH
An afternoon given without stint
To reliving in rawest detail
Of mute mutual kinship
The savage damage dealt
A beloved nearby woodland
(Never so pretentious as to have
Had itself proclaimed forest)
Wild winds have been by here
Nobbut youthful vandals
Gone in a flash and yet
Demanding for themselves
The coveted title of tempest
Uncounted trees lie horizontal now
Their naked roots groping vainly
Through this now empty stillness
Their bold majesty dethroned untimely
Winter Stravaig (24b)
WINTER STRAVAIG
Huffish gusts
Umber and ochre
Rule the roost
Trudge through mulch
Swaddled in umpteen layers
Drool of buttered toast
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Plum Blossom (3b)
…..
…..
…..
PLUM BLOSSOM
This blossom
Whence did it emerge?
From the tree?
Pen and ink?
The reader’s mind’s eye … or from
Unborn awareness?
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