Tag Archives: nature

a shadorma for autumn

blustery
billows cool and damp
ride the wind
frost the dawn
like a whisper summer fades
autumn blushes rouge

~kat

A Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5) is a fun short form. NO metering, no rhyming…just count syllables.


comes the rain…





comes the rain…


how odd it feels
this dark drear night
as sheets of rain
and milky fog
obscure my sight
while puddles swell
earth waterlogged
from outer bands
that sweep the sky
a monster with a single eye,
a tempest wielding misery
over a thousand miles,
its bitter tears from
too warm seas brings
half a nation to its knees
odd, i think, to taste the rain
that's caused such pain
to neighbors i will never meet
terribly connected, we,
and yet so far, so very far away


~kat
This poem was birthed in the foothills of Bramlette Mountain at dusk on the 30th of September 2022 as the outer bands of Hurricane Ian bent the pines and drenched the loam while simultaneously making landfall several states away on the South Carolina coast. We humans truly are a wrinkle, a mere blip on the vast landscape of this earth. Who are we to boast of anything at all when a raindrop can render us small?

little tree

take care, what you wish for
little tree; don’t rush to blush
amidst midsummer’s balmy
haze, for summer comes but
once a season; take your cue from
elder trees, their lavish manes
of sparkling emerald, chartreuse
and sage, wisdom comes from
weathering life’s cycles, grace and
age, and autumn, with her cool dawn
snap will be here soon enough
you’ll see; so entertain the breeze
and dance, while dusk holds back
the shade of night, your dreams
will keep, they’re never late,
but lie in wait until the time
is right…oh little tree stay green,
let your sprouting limbs grow strong
stretch your roots into the loam
that holds the memories of home
in just a blink your innocence
will be laid bare, as winter’s
snow becomes your hair, the night
will wrap you tight and long and
you will wonder where time’s gone,
and think about the summers passed,
while drifting off to sleep

~kat

not nearly enough

not nearly enough

i have been lulled by the serene,
by cloud dappled cerulean, and green
by the scent of honeysuckle, fresh
cut blades of grass, by rose petals
stretched open wide, drenched in dew
by birdsong at dawn, crickets and
peepers at dusk, the sun and the moon
chasing each other day to night,
the stars granting wishes
before fading from sight…she is
a beguiling mistress, nature,
it’s easy to forget she has a dark
side; a cycle of life, daunting
for those low on the food chain…
usually efficient, she sends
the buzzards to remove remnants
of untimely death from the forest floor
usually, but not today as i happened
upon a tiny shank of fresh meat,
fur still clinging to exposed bone,
undeniably of rabbit, nestled
in pressed down clover, beautiful
green, the sun shining, a soft,
fragrant breeze rustling the leaves
and all i could think was how grateful
i was not to have witnessed
the brutal carnage that happened
here under the trees, my heart
breaking for that poor creature,
emotions flooding my soul, heart
breaking for all manner of suffering
as the world grows darker by the day
remnants of untimely carnage left
in the open forcing us to see, no
longer kept hidden behind closed
doors or in the shadows, life is not
all rainbows and butterflies
and there are not enough buzzards,
what magnificent creatures they are,
to sweep away the bloody mess
we’ve made of things, not nearly enough

~kat
As luck would have it, it was raining when i recorded this melancholy poem… or maybe it has nothing to do with luck. 😉

crone maple

crone maple

she is a crone, yon maple tree
her sweetness long run dry
her core laid bare, exposed,
she stands tall, deeply rooted
having weathered many a storm,
seasonal extremes, drought
and deluge, through it all she
greens, her leaves a celebration
of resilience, audacity, of life..
a marvel, casting shade to cool
and sturdy limbs for nesters,
a wonder, though onlookers
might surmise her useless, her
scarred exterior as evidence, they
underestimate her power and
the fire that courses through
her veins…underestimated to
the peril of small minds who’ve
forgotten that their shallow roots
mingle with hers in the hollows

~kat

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