POEMS

 

SWIRL OF FINCHES

A Swirl of finches

 roller coaster

 through thinning branches

 atop a cedar,

 blessing with a flourish

 as deft as a wand.

 

Displacing handfuls of snow

 they fall needles

 like miniature loggers

 laying bare new seeds.

Diving in tandem,

 folding back in unison,

 carving off snow

 heavy in March,

 fooled into thinking it was spring.

 

Listen now over there

 another distant sound;

 a continuous buzz of a chainsaw,

 contrasting sharply

 the silence of snow

 sealing up the land.

 

But oh these finches survive,

 know so much

 require so little,

 it renews my heart

 with awe and joy.

 

 

CHANGE

I don't want to talk about crying,

 how he broke my heart

 when he left this world

 much too young.

 

I want to sing a song about grace

 cascading down like waterfalls

 into unsuspecting laps

 hungry for change.

 

Ricocheting around mountain tops,

 tumbling down

 over thick valleys

 of green.

 

I want to sing about life,

 of one door closing and another

 opening,

 love blown in by a breeze

 from a world undreamt of.

 

So we stumble, we fall

 we sink or we swim

 we laugh or we cry

 but we never stop moving.

 

Like a tumbleweed

 we just keep rolling along,

 twisting and turning

 on a dry prairie wind.

 

Preparing us for the final

 opening and closing

 of which we have, no control.

 

 

WIND MUSICIAN

The wind composes the elusive shade

across serrated edges

lining a weathered poplar tree.

 

Rippling with a ragtime beat

vibration sets the motion

dancing wild and silent.

 

Chords rise up

a grooved face.

 

Skyward leaves looking down

swell plein-air notation,

floating together

in breezy composition.

 

 

GATEWAY

Nightfall of dreams,

 things gone over,

 problems resolved,

 different ways shown

 of solving dilemmas.

 

Busy all night

 with times of deep rest

 taking us to a world

 of slumber.

 

Upon waking,

 to catch but a glimpse

 of the shores we have travelled,

 people we have befriended

 discussing our earthly situations.

 

Gateway to heaven

 speak to me at night

 that I may find my way.

 

IF NOTHING ELSE

 

If nothing else, I love the way

 the sun plays

 on tortoise's checkered back,

 

plodding along

 in a slow study of economy.

 

Compared to the running display

 of the sun's dappled rays—

 

it's a board game of opposites.

 

 

DREAMS LAID DOWN

Dreams laid down

 on pillowcases of silk

 need no washing.

 

Words slide off

 as easily as

 icicles

 down a slide,

 

landing in clear

 pools

 of crystal water.

 

All poems copyright by JANICE NOTLAND, and reprinted with her permission.

 

 

 

 

CONNECT with ALAN RINEHART

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