Introduction to Poetry

There’s a lot one can say      about the power of being       quiet (yes, I see the irony). When listening forefronts the mind      other senses muscle their       way into place (the ears above      all) take in the not-words      simply song, hum and tone  …

Across the dining room chairs over the lamp and past the plants through the window, I spy silhouettes that awaken and dance like the pebbled stones in a child’s kaleidoscope, shape-shifting black against the not quite white night sky. Here the leaves move, there they bend and turn branches like sky-borne seaweed in an ocean…

I wish I could collectthe light, landing its shadowson this page as it creepsever brighter through the gray. Pour it out to wash my heart,salve the wound of thispresent heaviness, the sighsthat never end. Hold it lightly aloft, prayingno sharp wind orquiet, steady breezesnuff it out, for weneed it so Father, carry us,ferry us through…

Well, it seems that way anyway. Clean and all. Open, blank, unwritten on. And the smashing white/blue sky is limitless today. How unlike our skies to be that way this day. But it is (a gift! Thank you, God.) SO, making the most of a Beautiful Good Thing I will do what any ordinary human…

Four thirty a.m. The “chree-chree-chree” sounds in the far off greeny bog. “Whis-tle” “whis-tle” “whis-tle” returns the call, floating notes through the open window. A chorus of chirps and cheeps overlap like leaves in a pile at the singing tree, all the feathered throats announcing– messaging, instantly– a new day never-been-done day, it’s-another-start-day. So I…