NaPoWriMo – Day #30!

April bows out
leaving so prettily
though yesterday
was rainy, cold and gray

birdsong
starts this day,
insects flit and buzz everywhere,
and the pigeons low cooing
continues until dusk

Sun and wind and greening grass,
clean smell of growing things
and freshly turned earth
promise gardens of delight
to come
The flowers of May
the fruits of June
and August’s bounty
drying, dying into autumn

We made it!  Congratulations to everyone who wrote 30 poems in 30 days during the month of April!  Well done, you!

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Wordless Wednesday – Rhubarb

NaPoWriMo – Day #29

Under my tongue
sits the world,
dissolving

slipping down
the back
of my throat

I can feel it
growing
within me

oceans roll
through my veins

leaves sprout
from my fingertips

deserts and prairies
bloom in my eyes
and we are radiant

NaPoWriMo – Day #28

What secrets
have we forgotten
that we learned from the trees

What lessons
have the winds taught
that we no longer recall

Have the moon and the seas
stopped speaking to us
or have we just stopped listening

NaPoWriMo – Day #27

I live my life in a fishbowl
looking out at a world
that doesn’t bother
looking back at me.
My only privacy
is your indifference

This painting, “The Sea Inside” by Samy Charnine, was the writing prompt at The Sunday Muse.  It’s already Monday, but you can still click on the link and check it out.

NaPoWriMo – Day #26

I love the feeling I get
sitting in the early morning dark
just before the sun comes up
this time is precious
to me
fleeting
dark and silent
my secret time, alone
except for my dog
and my thoughts
before I have
to face the day
the world
the sun

NaPoWriMo – Day #25

4-25-20

To, “First do no harm”
if only politicians had
to make that pledge

Feel free to include your thoughts on the topic in the comments.

NaPoWriMo – Day #24

What would you do
to save a life?
What lengths
would you go to?
What hardships
would you endure?
Would you agree to
stay home, to be alone?

We certainly are not
the Greatest Generation.
But, perhaps one day
we will be known as
the Mediocreist Generation.

NaPoWriMo – Day #23

I walked up the hill
past the old climbing tree
and down the path
into the woods.
There is a deep layer
of dead, brown leaves
from last year,
maybe several years.
They crunch under foot,
like walking through skeletons.
Yet, the buds on the trees
are swelling, greening.
This is not morbid,
it simply is
the way things are,
life and death together.
Perhaps
our insistence
on separating the two,
on fearing and denying death
is what’s abnormal.

Wordless Wednesday – Spring of Our Quarantine