Grace

Grace May 9

The Ring

The pool's swirling
and the fish,
swimming in the dappled light,
have found me.

Grace May 5

High currents are bursting at the rivers,
pouring Winter's splendour
to the cup of the sea.
Now sunlight will drink
from that eastern edge where its spilling gold bursts out --
and blinded, I will dip my fingers
in the wading wash of day.

Grace May 3

Your Word

Your word is kept by the promise of this:

a sun glowing in the brightness of dawn,
rivers flowing always to the sea,
grasses blowing in the summer's yawn,

so make your promise true to me.

Grace Apr 28

Oread

Spray has christened the pines and firs in frost
at the waterfall.
Overtake me in the mist,
whirl your pointed pines
and infuse your senses
as you cover me in the spray.

Whirl up, sea—
whirl your pointed pines,
splash your great pines
on our rocks,
hurl your green over us,
cover us with your pools of fir.

H.D.

Grace Apr 23

the river and the saint haiku

Lapping idly,
bands swirling ankles with light:
weariless traveler.

-

Are you alive?
I touch you.
You quiver like a sea-fish.
I cover you with my net.
What are you, banded one?

Five short sentences that are The Pool by H.D., and my current obsession.

Saint Christopher, who is the patron saint of travelers and, legend has it, carried a child in disguise across a river -- somewhat like Atlas, with the world on his shoulders.

Grace Apr 20

Moon of Geese

When they fly back to northern shores,
assemble on the moonlit ice,
after long months of paradise
and call out to the darkening east:

the April Moon is for the Geese

Grace Apr 19

It Is Not Winter Anymore

Now that the year has come to Spring,
I want to see the lakeshore,
smell the green, hear birds sing,
taste sunlight in my core,
crown every flower king,
become enraptured and adorned
in sweeping streams, in the bee's sting,
in the haste of the hummingbird's wing,
in the thrill of the rushing spring
of the blooming months, the budding moor.

it is not winter anymore