Spring Hope

If I could paint a landscape of spring,to reveal the magic it can truly bring,it would be of forsythia’s brilliant showwhere yellow blooms abundantly grow!Of a carpet of green after months of tan;cool, curly blades of grass, budding leaf,and new flower bulbs deep in dirty sand.Warmth in the fresh air as if to knowits lifebloodContinue reading “Spring Hope”

A Vine

What is a branch without a leaf,a lovely, lush, living gem of green?Where does the vine first connectbeneath the dark, deep, dim earth?When does the branch give birthto tender bud, to juicy fruit, to life?Why does the branch bare badly;it has dried and is no longer rooted. Without sturdy roots,a branch becomes just tinder; embersContinue reading “A Vine”

A Tale

Translucent wings flutter as stain glass beauties swoop and then soar for a meal;in days long gone another dragon spiecesspied the landscape looking for unique treasure other than pesky, tiny misquotes. White tailed rabbit nibbling! Emerald islands float, tufted succulentsbouncing, blooming, bursting forth in sun;a healthy meal at duck pond. Circular vegetation, a meal on watery floating plate,Continue reading “A Tale”

Easter Morning: a Resurrection

Months have passed like dawn and dusk,the year the world was unable to join to celebrate an event which changed history; not just history but one’s eternity. As morning sun rises in warm eastern sky,bird songs echo in the budding woodland,the air is vibrant with life as if a new bornhas been birthed; but it’sContinue reading “Easter Morning: a Resurrection”

Breaking Stillness

Still there’s a slice of iceencasing the marsh as glass;stiff, sharp becomes a screenprotecting you from prey.Visions of rich, dense duck weedand brown, earthy tuffs ofmarsh grass huddle waiting for cloudless sky.But morning chill tellsanother story of early spring. Buried deep you rest. With scentof spring playing games ofhide and seek; you find no aromaContinue reading “Breaking Stillness”

One Hundred Stood

One hundred stood shading;tall, trusting, thriving treestill the heavens openedtheir mouth like a multitude ofmottled black humpback whales; spouting, raging upon earth.Pounding, pounding, poundinghuge, hungry, hurtful torrentsof rain racing and running pastand though my hundred; blood  flowing in the earth rooted vainlandscapes now lapping at once study, towering trunks with barkoozing crying like a child inContinue reading “One Hundred Stood”

Journaling Wisconsin: Sandhill Cranes

Elegant, lengthy, lovely legstrailing in March breeze;outstretched Victorian neckcurved, crooked cleverlystriving for morning sun.Warbling, warbling melody etching news in cluttered sky,“Sandhills Cranes with scarlet mascara have finally arrived!”If only they would return my gaze when summer swelters in. Whether stepping singly across a wet meadow or filling the sky by the hundreds and thousands, SandhillContinue reading “Journaling Wisconsin: Sandhill Cranes”

Dog Goodbyes

It’s been a few years now,days, weeks, then months;yet his stare still sojourns,stuck in my healing heart. What is it about memories muddling minds; awakeningemotions buried deep thenoverturning mended heart? It was a pleasant Marchsurrounded by new birth;cranes, cardinals, crowsshared the open spring skies. What I didn’t know was deathinvades at will; wearing wearyapparel evenContinue reading “Dog Goodbyes”

Journaling Wisconsin: At Turtle Creek

Turtle creek flows under a weathered bridge where an old country road meanders.In spring crowds of geese gather noisily;tucked atop brittle corn stubble fieldsunning eastwardly on many mornings. The Red-wings are causing a rumpusatop pompous grasses swaying in wind;perched too on worn fence posts aligned like stretched dominos, as kill-dear chatter along road trusting their nestsContinue reading “Journaling Wisconsin: At Turtle Creek”

Journaling Wisconsin’s Spring: The Woodpecker

Woodpecker beating,beating on ragged bark;endlessly tapping, tormenting residents housed within.Awaking tiny pests, rousinginsect ruffians, courierwarning of their demise. Woodpecker beating,beating his own drum;forever drilling, dartinghis beak in then out.Arising strength within,forging ahead with lust,finding one’s inner vigor. “My flesh and my heart fail; But God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.Continue reading “Journaling Wisconsin’s Spring: The Woodpecker”