New Poetry:

Beyond the Boulders

The massive rough-hewn, brown-black rocks

Carved with weathered scars

Ancient indents and scratches

From intermittent storms and glaciers

Chiseling dark cave closets between the bedrock.

These stones standing tall,

Maintain a border, a private protection

A safety net, from worldly endeavors

Like our own harbored lives.

May we …

Begin the ascent, astutely above

Climbing our protective wall

Slipping, yet catching our feet

Over and over again.

Moving to that higher realm

Chanting songs

Until we feel

The watered charged air

And swift clean breezes flowing

With the rolled synchronous tides

Viewing the massive domed

Soft white sky overhead.

God’s universe, God’s glory

Breathing it, cherishing it, activating it

Moving far beyond our boulders.



My Garden is an Orchestra

Sweet pansies with quiet sounds amidst the

Stretching tall, skinny orchid like bush

With precious jewels hanging, singing lightly

Playing allegretto in the soft wind.

The deep blooms of bright pink hydrangeas

Are touched by myriads of

Vermilion, dotted Dutch impatience, sitting low

Emanating the full brilliance of symphony violins.

As the limbs of green arborvitae stand stately tall

Playing dark bass sounds with bassoons

The perking rhythms of old hydrangea blooms

Sprout delicate flutelike diminuendo passages.

The solemn song of the grey pine reaches my ears

As the climbing clematis behind, perks up the mood

With hundreds of light violet blooms

Building crescendos, just like Chopin.

All in unison, yet individual

Playing with harmony and cross rhythms

Taking us on eagle’s wings

No words, no sounds, no coda

A solace high.



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