"winterlude" poems
Hops and topsy-turvy jumps ― blurred movement
muddles across the dewy meadow floor,
as though dawn brushes away the sandman’s magic
from the corner of sleepy eyes,
to cast an enchanting spell
A sudden hazy yet abrupt stop…
hastily, halting , frozen motionless
Stillness, as if some final destination has been reached…
Neck stretched and craning,
tilted with an eye to mother earth ;
a canted focus beyond interruption
In the blink of an eye,
with a vigor too rapid to capture,
as the nowness of urgency flashes ―
She stretches the earthworm
with the grasp of subsistence
knowing after fall becomes the long winterlude.
The morning sun illuminates the glow of the native Maple’s
glorious fiery orange and yellow color palette
A steady stream of animation rushes in and out
of the giant tree’s golden splendor
Abundance perishes with the seasonal gardens decay.
Mornings of blueberry and strawberry feasts
have left the red breasted robbers foraging
for the last rotting apples the deer have left behind.
Harbingers of spring…
Blueberry sneakers…
Gleaners of fall and winter..
“Teeek” “tuk” “tuk” “Tseep”....
fills the overhead air
with a beautifully chaotic verve
The flock returns repeatedly to and fro the towering Maple
to the ripened cornucopia of scarlet berry clusters of the Mountain Ash
The Robin’s flock ravage and gorge on the plentiful delights
Soon the crimson berries fuel of flight will disappear
as if it were only an unspoken allusion
of the passing seasons
The pearl gray sky is an ominous backdrop
for the fickle fleeting migrants
Daylight fades as the flock disappears
into a break in the clouds
fleeting unto the ominous pending winter sky…
In the blink of an eye ... life’s senescent seasons
transform the stormy whirling winds of change
bearing the golden Autumn leave’s splendor
across the rolling vista
like a higgledy-piggledy murmuration
of a migrating beautiful mess
The naked rooted scaffold’s branches stretch
across the sprawling tapestry of the wooded sanctuary.
Winter flocks of Thrush and Robins,
arrive on a frosty new dawn
Red breast feathers puff with the morning sun’s rays,
warming the tree tops leaning toward the southern sky;
Their journey here and now,
from distant mountainous horizons,
is part of a soul’s sacred circle of life…
November rivers ...the final autumn entry of 2017
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
And my solitude
Beats me off my beatitudes
Feeds me at all latitudes
And then it passes like winterlude.
Ah winterlude, it’s making me lazy!
It runs and it screams through the night.
And I see it again on this old skyline
But when winter comes it’ll all be fine.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 5:55 AM UTC
I woke up this morning in a Bob Dylan song
Wasn't quite sure of where I was
All along the watch tower or somewhere there about
I'm kind of wondering at the cause
I watched as William Zanzinger beat down Hattie Carroll
Knew something about this must be done
It's hard for your feet to catch traction when they're not on the ground
Floating inside of a Dylan song
I must have looked both dazed and confused
With a case of the Subterranean Homesick Blues
But I figure I'm going to change my way of thinking
As I hold out for Winterlude
That night I hooked up with the Jack of Hearts
With Lilly and Rosemary both by his side
Must have had something up his sleeve for certain
Cause all he did was stand in the corner and smile
The big girl now standing next to me said
Your going to make me lonesome when you leave this song
At that she cried buckets of rain
In the shelter of the storm
And all of this happened this morning
When I woke up in a Bob Dylan song
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC