Tag: nature

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Poem for April 1

Photo by Elizabeth HowardLying flat on the grass,
Crushing the blades
I am a bookmark between
The earth and all that is above.

“You are not looking UP,”
I once read. “Imagine you can
Step out into the stars. All the
Universe is in front of you.”

All the universe — the sun which is a
Star; and greater suns indeed, also stars,
And the moons which are just rocks like
Gravel scattered between the flagstones.

The landscapers moved the daffodils.
“Give them some water. They’ll perk back up.”
Just so with this grass beneath me.
Those ants I laid poison for in the living room: not so lucky.

Sometime this week, the men will come to tear out the yuccas.
The women will carve out the daisies.
A redbud tree waits at the nursery to be adopted;
Legions of utility workers attend my yard with blue and yellow spray.

I lay on the grass
My sprained ankle rests akimbo.
I gaze up and plan a shutter painting party as clouds drift by.
In the nearest slice of sun

The dog drops her head and sighs.


confused geese pass invisible overhead.
puffed air swallows the hilltop in a bank of
steam.  my pores open in this transient
warm air mass.

I’m writing “small stones” as past of Mindful Writing Challenge 2014.  If you care to participate, here’s the link. Feel free to read and enjoy more wonderful mindful posts from across the world on Twitter at #smallstone.

Six pressure-treated boxes in the backyard.
Cubical quadrilaterals waiting under
A flat snow. We aren’t always a
Summer jungle of tomato vines.

I’m writing “small stones” as past of Mindful Writing Challenge 2014.  If you care to participate, here’s the link. Feel free to read and enjoy more wonderful mindful posts from across the world on Twitter at #smallstone.


helleborus in a washed-out chinese-food tin;
her spiked hearts and freckled petals
turning towards the pane.
Yesterday
I marveled at your shades of pale viridescence.
Today
I wonder ‘how long before the blooms fall?’

I’m writing “small stones” as past of Mindful Writing Challenge 2014.  If you care to participate, here’s the link. Feel free to read and enjoy more wonderful mindful posts from across the world on Twitter at #smallstone.

late sun drops low
over the reservoir
one circle of light among

the dozen headlamps
already licking the
new english road.

I want to stop. The single
goose on a high rock island
wants me to stop.

the soft black top gravel
shoulder is wide but I’m
past before I know it.

sun there and gone, behind that
remnant wood; the rock wall
slumps, goose replaced
by a shattered pine tree.


even just the
sight of water
is enough to
slow the galloping
pony inside.
She stops
to watch the branch
touch sunny ripples and
then
hardly hears her
thunder heart over
the sweet robin
singing.

I’m writing small stones as part of the January Mindful Writing Challenge. Please feel free to comment! And come read more small stones on Twitter.