Mourning doves congregate below my deck
heads bowed.
A single bird stands forward
from the huddled mass
and watches me through the window
beady eyes filled with distrust.
At some invisible signal,
all raise their heads.
They croon a hymn and process forward
jostling for a front position
before exiting in waves
and soaring into a shaft of morning light.
Tulips rise
Brave in cold spring weather
Pink and yellow blooms
Push skyward
Deer snack on ice-kissed buds
Waves of snow
thrash sand and
rock and shells.
Steam rises over open water
or is it spirit
lifting off?
Either way, we shiver
anticipating the frigid embrace
ahead.
I leave my bed unmade
my dreams unfinished
and my door open
in hopes that peace will wander in.
Faces on the TV telegraph tension.
Furrowed brows and pain-filled eyes,
these are the lucky ones. Some
already lie still and cold and sightless
amid shattered buildings.
Ukriane’s brave build defense
one bottled wick at a time
and, tongue in cheek,
offer to return starved behemoths
to their origins.
The bear roars and rears while
the weary rest in subway warrens
and pray that peace will
find them.
I lose my mind among stacks of books and
find it amid words.
Ideas circle like cartoon stars
that follow a blow to the head.
But the impact is internal and words
swim before my eyes,
enough minnows to feed a pod of whales
or flocks, and flocks of hungry herons.
Words dart here and there.
Some form patterns.
Others go about their unfathomable ways.
So many books.
Delicious slippery covers beneath my palms.
Paper, some rough and some smooth, meets my fingertips as I
turn pages and corners in my mind.
Black on white, meaningless to some but
sacred to me,
text flows from left to right,
top to bottom.
All pages devoured, I sigh,
sated, and pause before…
seeking more.
Following the steps of Scandinavian foremothers
I scatter seed outside my door at Yuletide
enticing birds and good fortune for
the new year.
They deliver stray feathers among their blessings,
beauty, grace and energy.
When only split shells remain,
songs come drifting from the
oak, maple and birch,
birthing a sense
of peace and well-being
carrying me
‘til spring.
tiny fuzzy goat-man
four chins and hairy shoulders
shimmies as he dances and prances
mingles and mixes with vixens
and manner of wild beasties
who gorge on feasties or
finesse feats of frankness
pawing the floor and rearing
clamoring to claim the last clam
or juicy bit of ham
welcome to the fete
welcome to the ball
satyrs all
