The Cotillion

The Cotillion

On our blue planet
a-tilt, wobbling, rotating,
and revolving,
sky-shadows shimmy
in the slanted light
of spring—

the moon-pulled tides swell
and undulate,

and above, the blue or red-shifted
stars glimmer, but
nothing ever stands still—

all dancers
in a cosmic cotillion
the never-ending-dance.

A quadrille for dVerse. Mish has given us the prompt word, “shift.”

Winter Blues

Claude Monet, Floating Ice at Bennecourt

Winter Blues

This landscape sings the blues, tones
absorbed, scattered
in meadows of frost flowers–

but in the staunch fragility of ice, shattered
fragments form prisms
for unexpected rainbows arcs
that sparkle

like the features of the Winter Queen,
beauty without heart, frozen and deadly.

A quadrille for dVerse. The link is still open, if you want to join in the poetry fun. The prompt word is ice.

Once Upon a Time

Edvard Munch, The Storm

Once Upon a Time

Shadows crept,
then grew bolder
dreams were born,
then grew older,

blood boiled,
passion ebbed
now spiders dangle
from silvered webs

in dusty corners
where mice skitter
through this-and-that—
history’s litter.

Those were the days,
they once said,
the toasts of ghosts,
our dead.

A quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is bold.

Another Poem about Vultures

Another Poem About Vultures

and how they sky-dance
carrying light on their wings
to banish grey clouds, drawing brilliant-blue
curtains for their cotillion.

I wonder if they dream,
and what their dreams would be—
and if they’d want to know
how their ballet dazzles,
lifts heart-joy in me.

A quadrille for dVerse using the prompt word “wing.” A couple times last week, I watched vultures flying above me, and weirdly perhaps, it really did brighten my mood.

I’m finishing a project, but I will catch up on posts and comments later today!


The Ruins

The Ruins

Leaves of red and yellow fall
wrapping the ruins in rubies and gold.

Once bells tolled, clanging rings,
singing the years and hours–
joy-peals for weddings, clamoring-bongs
when wars were done.

Silence drifts ghost-like in this place
yet, listen–
bells, knelling, an echoing trace.

A seasonal quadrille for dVerse. The prompt word is bell.

September Rain

Heron at dawn. Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield.

September Rain

Early morning is heron-still,
the grey wing-brushed sky waits
for feathered clouds to part,

or sprinkle diamond drops
around sunflowers’ throats,
who smile and tilt their heads,

offer tiny mirrors to bees,
to see a world worked in threads reflected blue,
invisible to us.

A quadrille for dVerse. We’re getting much-needed rain today.

My favorite time of day

Dreamy sky, morning moon

My favorite time of day–

coffee-scented kitchen,
breakfast-fed cat licks his paws,

no human voices,
only star-songs’ glittering traces,
and moon-hums.

She dream-drifts
on cotton candy clouds–
gives a crescent grin,
and I grin back,
the dawn a bright-feathered promise—

crows wake with clatter-clamoring caws,
just so, they say.

A quadrille for dVerse.