A Thing Called a Poem

Red breasted robin returned today;
followed by a rattling, rambunctious
red-winged black bird babbling
in tall rushes, tails puffed to seed.

Skies a sapphire shade speak of spring;
while tree buds are tucked tightly away
holding their breath, waiting to reveal
their packages of cashmere blooms.

Well known is early arrival can crush
and destroy a flourishing crop of fruits;
so are a poet’s words scattered across 
an empty page waiting, waiting, waiting.

Words gathered in a nest after long,
chilled winter; thoughts, inspirations
and musings ready to sprout forth
blooming songs from the poet’s heart.

Talking about poetry today…https://earthweal.com/
P. Wolf, poet & author

Skylark

A quivering lyric
plummeting, plunging;
trilling tune toward
meadow nest!

A warble in wind
tumbling toward field;
feathers rumbling,
trill lingers.

A trumpeter’s tune
melodious melody;
true herald
of bright skies

A caroler’s call,
seized then snatched;
swallowed in firmament.
Skylark higher, higher still!

“Your lovingkindness, Oh Lord, reaches to the heavens, Your faithfulness to the skies.”

Psalms 36:5
Posted for https://dversepoets.com/
A 44 word post including the word “sky”

Resting Place

It was ancient, their home, tall and stately. There they stood still staring through the veil of night. Waiting, wondering and watching each taking their turn while others rested. 

It was said by many, “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.” But it was of no concern for soon break of day would come. Their silhouettes would stretch wide against cloudless sky.

Silently, with massive wings they would dive to feed. Raw carrion (caribou, cougar, coyote); it made no difference to the vultures. They had waited under a pale moon dreaming of this moment.

One may wonder of their care-free lifestyle. Perhaps if a day, week or year without the work of the messy vulture we would realize their need in our communities. There are stains upon the earth and it’s a vulture’s dirty job to do a janitor’s difficult work.

The Roost

“In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”

Mary Oliver’s, Death at Wind River

Prosery Prompt at dVerse

144 words or less including the quote

Silent Night

DSCN4298_edited-1

The nightingale’s last cry;
a still born child at twilight.
A bundle of feather scattered,
tattered on parched ground.
Silent is the bleakest night,
till in prayer I cry out…

“Hear my prayer, O Lord,
and give ear to my cry;
do not be silent at my tears;
for I am a stranger with You,
a sojourner, as all my fathers were.”

Psalm 39:12

Not the feathers of a nightingale, I know, yet the music of one I no longer hear.