Flying Over Christmas Morning

Roads branch
into lanes
bearing fruit
of tiny farms,
a patchwork quilt.
Ten thousand feet.

Angels
blow smoke
over the hills,
settles
in ravines.
Twenty thousand feet.

A thin band
of yellow and red,
smudges
the horizon–
blue above, gray below.
Thirty thousand feet.

Angelic smoke
now covers all,
an untaut blanket
rippled with waves
frozen in time.
Forty thousand feet.

The white carpet
welcomes
His entrance,
too bright
in my window.
And holding.

 


 

Hope Is

My heart had died,
strangled, beaten,
desire eaten by disease;
black and blue, but crimson
seeped out.
Like fallen tinder on trace ember,
His gentle breath—
hushes turned rhythmic glow.
The threads of a cloud,
its weave pulled apart
by the light;
one ray becomes two,
two rays become seven.
Hope is.

Check out other great poems at this week’s One Shot Wednesday (part of One Stop Poetry).


 

Rules Misunderstood – A Haiku & Others

Homeowners Association Gestapo
You can’t park there.
My temples throb. Take a breath.
I can. I live here.

Sunshine Dirt
Through shadowy webs
of branches on earth’s canvas
sunshine on dirt.

Keyboard
Hard, dusty plastic.
White on black staring back at me.
Intimidation.

Today’s poems are also part of the Poetry Potluck Week 14 (at Jingle Poetry).

Tree Wise of Winter

Leaves green in summer
come flutter in fall.
Oak, Cherry once rich
surviving stand tall.

Drab split-hardened skin
scared naked exposed.
Arms reaching to heav’n
dread long dark and cold.

Fearful of winter?
Forgetful of spring?
Hope fades but a wink.
To rebirth you must cling.

Blood pearls on Holly
smooth waxy rich green.
Triumphant sweet Pine!
Faith steadfast wise tree.

Breathe forth sacred snow
north winds from afar.
White satiny sheets
mask ages old scars.

________________________________

I love winter. Overcast days, snowy nights, and a blue sky winter morning wonderland. It’s still autumn of course, but the first snow is arriving late this year to the Front Range foothills of Colorado. We’re expecting it tonight.

I wrote the first version of this poem in 2003; this is the third and final iteration. I know many who loathe winter, and a few who become severely depressed during the long, cold and dark days (a disorder known as SAD – Seasonal Affective Disorder). They are miserable during the winter months. Lonely. Hurting. Sometimes hopeless. All of us, sooner or later, will walk through a season of difficulty, doubt, questions with no answers. A dark chapter we’d like to tear out.

Let nature be a reminder that winter doesn’t last forever–spring always comes. Pine trees are ‘ever’ green and sturdy in the wind, like a sage who welcomes a hard winter after surviving centuries of change. And the Holly. She bursts with contrasting reds and greens, like an excitable child, too young and carefree to let winter erase her color.

If your days are long and dark right now, hang on just a little longer…spring is on its way.

Revelation 21:4-5