From my back porch

Exposed branches dip, wave and weave,
Trees are ashamed without their summer leaves.
Silhouettes of willows shiver and dance
to nature’s brush of ice and snow.

Summer flowers are netted in frost;
frozen threads descend from eaves.
Sharp, quick air sweeps and scrubs,
sparrow’s nests are ice embossed.

Across the glebe, vacancy greets my swing.
Faded with age its rope slumped and frayed,
splintered seat bows to windy whorls.

Within serenades of stillness,
I hear white silence of the snow,
tearful willows nod to winter ice.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fishing

She remembers
the arc of his cast
the fly piercing her gaze,
reflections that stagger,
through transparent water
liked warped glass.

She recalls
the drape of his shadow;
teasing fish
with a flick of wrist.
Sinewy rhythm
deftly luring with hook and snell.

Shattered water licks
her toes and mingles
with tears like lace, falling.

She saw him walk
water’s borders
until swallowed by distance.

She inhales breath of night;
while day slips into memory’s shadow,
silence holds her hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Flower and Music Festival

My backyard blooms and simple gardens grow,
enhanced bouquets that fill a summer’s dream
and purple lilac buds replete the show
with color whorls like silky ribbon gleams.

A wreath of laurel decks the cobblestones
and verdant trees are bent inside the breeze,
their breathless music speaks in mellow-tones
while blue bells sway like tips of crested seas.

The lofty serenade of nightingales
beneath unsullied azure sky reside,
their fluid notes in heaven’s choir prevails
like vestals stand the tulips swell with pride.

My flower petals bask in morning’s glow
and brace for winter’s song of ice and snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sewing

I saw the moon tilt,
spill its lavender memories,
sprawl across sky’s organdy lid;
and leave me to sweep teardrops
that slump below my eyes.

Soft cries prevail
at sun’s decline.
A curled moon’s pallor
clutches me like a shroud.

It is sun’s strings of light
in a threadbare sky
that sooth me,
not moon’s opaque lamp.

Despite the moon,
despite the night.

I’ll indulge
my extravagant lavender memories,
sew their light,
purling stars
inside the hem of dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enchantment

The amber leaves revolve then drop and sigh
as trees undress their arms of summer gowns.
Their leafy pirouette delights the sky
but broken moon above resides in frowns.

The rocking trees will sway in heaven’s night,
to keep the forest’s waltz in step and rhyme.
A canopy holds earth in crowns of light,
and lovers sob despite the stars and chime.

The wind will swallow voice and pine for rains
to pulse and sew it’s fringe upon the eaves.
The branches bare will drum on vacant panes
and sing angelic tones if sorrow grieves.

The leafless willows weep with worried brow
the widow wipes the tears away for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sparrow Tears

Barren boughs, without nest,
without bird,
drape beyond
a farm house welted with scars,
its tears falling from eves.
Lantern glass glows dark,
shadowed fireplace has turned to soot.

A heart of aches precedes me,
yesterday only an echo.

Path to the well
is healed,
no sash to disguise speckled panes,
gate strokes dust.
Bony weeds, dry as chalk
gather.

Eighty years of fickle wind caught by the roof,
wizened heaps of yard keeps
tracks
hugging ground like seeds awaiting birth.
Empty bucket, its fiber cracked,
sags.

Elm withers without its cloak,
blue sky, broken by clouds, looks down.

It was then the Sparrow wept.

Beneath collapsed grey wood,
amidst rotting memories
and Sparrow tears,
a single daisy sprouts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tapestry

The late leaves
will fall, plumed
pines will sway,
gathered light
will shine on frozen
lakes and a fern
will lay its fragile
cheek on stone.

A golden envelope
of light will become dawn.

I am amazed this tapestry
of beauty remains,
even though you are gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Peek into Summer

When day dawns on the brow of earth
sun breaks through blurring mist,
polishes window panes and sash,
swaddles trees in summer’s frock.

Swallows fly low to meet nests,
embrace willow arms.
Butterfly wings excite air,
and follow fragrant rose petals.

When summer idles air is full,
even rain can’t cloud blue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voyage

I clutched earth but sought the sea,
my footsteps were forlorn.
My soles once rooted and lost in scree
now wend to ocean’s dome.

Shimmers of red and silver fade
in dark water’s mellow sway.
The ship’s rails were my palisade,
the helm set forth our way.

The briny air rode a fickle breeze.
Uncluttered stars lit night,
then torched the darkened seas
with convex gleams of light.

An avalanche of foam deceived
the silence of our path.
My heart once quiet and besieged
dared enough to laugh.

When I heard waves berate the hull
and lonesome seabirds sigh.
Tunes of my song rang gleeful
like notes in a lullaby.

I embark on my life’s quest
as island’s color withers.
I stand apart from my life’s breath,
alive in ocean whispers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Embracing Glory

She felt tethered to a life of scorn
like trees rooted in deepest sod.
Seeds of misdeeds planted but not re-born
in greenest vales now too down-trod.

She knew the ague of her morrow’s toll,
searched a vestige to outlast.
Winds of sin echoed a vacant soul
as she swept dry bark from her past.

The walk from her tattered life was steep,
tired paths filled with mud and silt.
Weary footsteps spill, then in silence creep,
like gray shadows that fade and wilt.

With grace she prayed all sins to confess,
dusted ashes to purify death
and wore her rue like a sullied dress,
embraced glory with her last breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December Tears

The calm snow
soft memories melting on my lashes,
while the fall of night stars
drape the sky of wishes.
Before me, flakes pirouette,
flutter and drop.

Frost engraves
ice patterns on the pane;
once, his fingers
would melt against the glass
and trace my name.

Stars shine past horizon’s lip,
winds weave in hushed night.
Alone in winter’s wrap of amethyst,
my cheeks wash with memory’s tears.

On the tree, garland glints,
my eyes are mirrored in silver balls…
moments of him linger.

His echo whispers;
December

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No Blink No Murmur

I feel dreamy
when I hear rain drumming.
Time with all its faults
seems less insistent then.

The night-long drip, drip
on window sills and stone steps,
drenches weedy gardens
and over brims puddles.

Rain drops hurry
through hushed air
then rest on my
hair and lashes.
Its damp opulence
falls quietly
without a blink or murmur.

When rains slow
and stars emerge
I face up into
a Picasso sky.

I dream with ease
under glinting eyes of heaven.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spun Lace and Soap Suds

With pomp and thrum
seas pulse at my root,
inviting my toes
with echo’s fingers.

Throbbing water welters
to sand, reminding
me of spun lace and soap suds,
worn when hurried breaths
awaited my first embrace.

Light arrows
spear ocean’s roof;
I stand
on fickle shores,
watching, remembering.

I linger in murmurs
of cobalt seas,
nestle in whispers
of days left behind.

There is exhilaration
in calmness of the sea
when pieces of sunlight fall
and spirits flare.

I drink deep of silence,
ponder winding
crossroads between life and death.

Then I revel
in hushed reflections
of my youth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gold Threads

I seek a shawl where threads don’t fray,
like weavers want their narrow seams.
If my thin tears wash dyes away,
I’ll knit gold threads inside my dreams

and brocade purls in sunlit gleams.
If I mend tatters of my shawl
and years of rue aren’t what they seem,
I’ll bury shame before night falls.

Hems of my life have been astray
and its pattern I will redeem,
where unraveled edges can’t betray,
sew tapestry on velvet’s sheen.

I’ll wrap in folds of rich sateen,
as midnight’s cloak begins to fall,
my gown of rags is not pristine,
I’ll lace the strands before His call.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fairy Spring

The fairies beckon spring with soprano voice
and fly aloft in silver streams of clouds,
with golden hands they mold the sun with rays,
and wake the breeze that sweeps the mist away.
They coax the bulbs eternal oath of blooms
to breathe before the evening amethyst.

Through trees they flit and pirouette with glee
and sprinkle magic dust with wings like fans.
With quaint and quiet grace they promise blooms
of resting flowers, chilled by winter’s pout.
Their silver threads delight the rose and fern
that weave the lilac tints that color spring.

Withdrawn is ice that sealed the river’s flow,
and captured water's kiss the fairy’s wand,
while winter’s fingered grasp of stone relents.
The spring remembers hands of fey and light,
un-ruffles forest’s plume and spreads her gown
of silk, that mends the winter's worsted gray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drops of Dusk

With sweeps of His divine and fluid brush,
He paints the land with shades of light and dark.
A dab of amber falls on shores and blush
the straying sand with strokes of ember’s arc.

His palette paints the changing season’s tint,
where lofty leaves and rowdy flowers keep
the ardent sun of rays that hold their glint
before the hues of night unfold its sleep.

The heavens cradle earth, His canvas lives
in splendor’s gift from seas to mountain’s crest.
Between the drops of dusk a shadow gives
and stars with sapphire light that He has blessed,

they’ll decorate the sky where rainbows kissed
beneath the clouds of rain and morning mist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Art, graphics, prose and poetry are by Marilyn Terwilleger.
Copyright © 2003 Marilyn Terwilleger.
All Rights Reserved

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