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
just beyond the trees
i can almost see the neighbors now
their white-washed porch and blue metal roof,
the brown-white marbled coats of their horses
grazing along the perimeter, just beyond
the thinning tree barrier between us
trees still green with life, slowly fading,
tip tops aglow in shades of amber and rust
empty nests teetering like bristly blobs in the wind,
nestled in nooks high above the bustle below
at long last, autumn has settled in for a spell
season of bonfires, apple cider, pumpkin spice, sweaters
season of letting go, of gleaning what we’ve sown
and offering what’s left back to the earth and sky
I can see the neighbors now as the air grows chill
as winter looms close and days grow dark
as the veil grows thinner…thinner still
it’s comforting you know, to remember
that I am not…that we are never truly alone
i see you…i see you
~kat
on earth, as it is…
clouds hang low
a blanket of mist
rests softly
on treetops
cool rain droplets dust my face
this could be heaven
~kat
Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively. Simple as that.
like mercury colliding... 