late summer encounter
I spied a lovely doe today
she held my gaze, then leapt away
into the brush deep in the hollow
I fought the urge to rush and follow
to think I’m kind would not be safe
we humans are a cruel race
I kept my distance glad to see
her intuition made her flee
run free sweet forest sprite run free
it’s best to fear the likes of me
as hunters plan their autumn sacks
be swift, stay safe, and don’t look back
~kat
wild blackberries
I don’t mind
being encroached upon
by the invasive species
of these foothills…
blackberry brambles
hug the long driveway
to my house on the hill
bursting with fruit
I don’t mind
that the deer, the squirrels,
the rabbits, chickadees, finches,
cardinals, and wrens will glean
most of this year’s bounty…
I don’t even mind sharing
with bullish, boisterous bluejays
I’ll happily savor my annual
handful of luscious sweets, fingers
stained a lovely shade of purple-blue
how gracious my neighbors are
sweetly serenading me, gracing
me with visits that take my breath
they don’t mind me
trudging noisily along the wood’s edge
rustling them from their burrows
and perches…they don’t mind
being encroached upon by me…
~kat
ode to spring
day
light lingering
night
rushing toward the dawn
bud-swelled tree tops pop in white, pink, blue
the breeze
warm and fragrant whispers
it’s time…turn your face
to the sun
bid winter adieu
~kat on the first day of spring 2024
A Pi-Prime 11 poem for this first day of Spring!
Pi digits: 3.1415926535. Each digit in the series corresponds to the syllable count for each line starting with 3 for the poem’s title.
waiting for spring
on the cusp of spring
when the world is damp and bleak
when tall tree limbs
stretch toward the heavens
stripped bare by the fierce
nor’easters of winter
their brittle fingers
clutching air
against the gray
I wonder
what if winter hangs on
and spring never comes?
how easy it is to teeter
on the edge, weary from
long, dark nights, from
the frigid nip of ice-laced
wind against my face
chilling me to the bone
how silly of me to think it
spring always comes
as if on cue
the song of peepers
from the edge of a nearby
creek echoes through the mist
snapping me out of all doubt
settling my wild musing
reassured now, as if…
and I think,
I just may have a few more
springs in me left until
winter wraps me in eternity
just a few more
~kat
autumn rain
I feel it in my bones
hours before the first drop
when the sky floods gray
and heavy, my knees scream
my back aches and my hair
becomes a web of straw clinging
to my head…my thought process
grows sluggish…and I think
the very best I can manage
is a nap, a very long nap
in fact wake me up come spring
when the rain is sweet and cool
not this bone-chilling deluge
that drenches fallen leaves
grinding them into loam
tree limbs overhead stripped bare,
unable to shade the carnage below
oh that it would snow, this season
in between has lost its charm
the letting go, the letting go…
to death…I feel it in my bones
~kat
like mercury colliding... 