For Degas

The dance, slowly blending into shadow,
Graceful arms that halo the sun,
The moon shines in corners
In dreams of young dancers.
Reposed upon wooden stair,
Waiting for the entrance,
The auditorium to still.
The start of the grand waltz.

@AnnWJWhite, copyrite 2017

Sunday Trees, a poem and a photograph

https://beccagivens.wordpress.com/2016/12/18/sunday-trees-266/

There you stand, arms outstretched,
Gathering the last sun of a season
As the cold moves with infinite patience.
The crystals of frost will soon haunt you.
They spread from dawn to dusk, and infiltrate
Your woods at night to decorate with lacy
Precision, precision which creates chill and ice.
But beneath the earth, you grow and shiver
Living like ants on the stored food in your veins.
Your tenants, the squirrels follow your lead and nap.
Their nests decorating during the winter,
A barren decoration, brown, gray, but hopeful.
You create the roots of spring while waiting,
While knitting through the winter months.
Arms outstretched you gather the last rays, knitting,
Before the sunset of autumn and the dawn of winter.

 

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When Trouble Came

When the grass was short,
Knees were barked and
Giggles lasted through the day.


When the weeds grew wild,
Skirts were short and
Glasses magnified the world.

When the leaves fell,
Streams were colored,
Work was life endowed.


When the ice blew,
Snow drifts suffered,
Adult eyes grew jaded.

When trouble struck,
Murder most cruel,
Debts buried mountains.



When color drained,
Blood was forgotten, but
Genocide prevailed.


When liberty hid her head,
Shamed and lonely,
Safety became an illusion of the past.

When false men screamed in anger,
Children met death,
Streets rained red with blood.

When jealous greed drank a draught,
Slowly sip by sip, glad
Blindness filled our eyes.

When police dressed in shrouds,
Denying other’s truth,
Armed repressions stole freedom.

When children looked for justice,
Winter came early,
Paris was set aflame.