Please forgive me for not having posted since summer - I simply got too busy with gardening, yard work, taking care of my injured wife, other things and didn't seem to make time for my blog. Life is easing up some now and I anticipate being back after the blog and poetry shortly.
deliciously red -- This is reminiscent of a poem I had published in the Feb. 2012 issue of The Red River Review entitled "The Strawberry Patch"
She moves warily through the strawberry patch,
an eye for the season's first reward of deep red,
payment for years of careful tending, fertilizing,
covering in the cold months, watering in the hot.
In the strawberry patch she finds her serenity,
a peace spreading beneath the warm sun, with
sparrows voicing approval from nearby bushes,
Monet clouds gliding leisurely in the cerulean sky,
and honey bees darting from one strawberry flower
to the next. And upon finding the first berry
the woman dutifully offers it to the old man nearby,
who smiles in his love for her, knowing she's
generous enough to offer, but hopes he'll decline.
Mature love is like that, he thinks to himself,
as their kind of love will always offer the first
of everything, or the last of everything, for his
weakness is the last piece of strawberry pie, but
knowing because of love each in turn will defer.
This is how he would choose to remember her,
this beautiful woman who's been by his side,
the smile on her face as she savors the early
berry, licking her lips as if she had just eaten
a mouthful, all the while the breeze fluffs
her white hair and her blue eyes echo the sky.
Yes, he thinks, this is how it should always be.
(Referencing the colors of fall - yes, wrong season, but one of my more favorite haiku - Published in the November, 2009 issue of Notes from the Gean --
a snow goose
cups its wings to land
curve of the shore
Today we received another six inches of snow - and just about the time I was thinking spring could not be THAT far around the corner (sure, another few months, but . . .). So, instead of getting back out into my unheated studio, I'm confined to the big picture window that looks out upon the studio - and all the new snow (I am still in a wheelchair except when the snow's gone and I can use my power scooter). It's quiet, at least that much is good, except for the cawing of crows, which is also good:
cawing of a crow I realize there's some rhyming - snow and crow - but I kind of like that, as well as the high contrast between the white of the snow and the black of the crow, and the silence of snow and the raucous cawing. Does it work? Thanks - Warren