Archive | September, 2018

Trying my hand at a wee bit of poetry

22 Sep


laundry snapping in the wind

squeaking protest of screen door swing

clank, gurgle and splash of the hand pump

thump and click of the privy door

circus animals in clouds seen through purple perfume dome of lilacs

wind sighing through tall field grass

counterpoint to the buzz, clicks and whir of insect chorus –

childhood past

Love Birds

A pond formed between two rapids
home for two white swans,
by day, paddling about their refuge
for food and play;
by night, bodies in soft collision

floating together as one
in soft, sound sleep,

away from swirling eddies

bonded and safe in their own wee world.

Maggie’s World

Leaning derelict, a shanty,

witness to time and weather–
gray siding, sagging roof.
Waist-high weeds in front offer
splashes of colour to contrast with
planted flowers gone wild, surviving.
On a post, a worn heart-shaped board
with child’s studied script:
‘Maggie’s Garden’
gives my heart pause . . .
this poor shelter once alive
with spirit, bright-light Maggie–

her words, this was my home.

Morning Mist

With my passion for the wilderness I became part of the forest sharing its secrets through the veil of a soft mist in the early morning hours.

Standing naked, ankle deep in an unnamed lake, arms stretched enveloped in mist the moon resting westward casting  surreal  across waters mist filtered .

Wading with first light touching eastern skies,

Gliding under, cooling waters caressing.

Renewal, affirmation of life.


Crickets in fine tune

their song drawing me back,

back to the farm of my youth.

Magic nights with crickets’ call

to venture forth.

Through my window across the field

stretched out by creek,

upward gazing, moon and stars a wonder

The night sounds were my friend

and in fact still are.


Crickets fine-tuning their song

draw me back

to the farm of my youth.

Magic nights, with crickets call

I venture forth

through my window, across the field,

stretched out by creek,

gazing upward, moon and stars a wonder.

Night sounds were my friends

I hear them still.