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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Finding

I found a tree,

which flowered

even though the frost

was barely gone.

I sat, pondering how

I had leafed

When I thought all hope was gone.

I found a flower,

which leaved and

sent blue bells up

Skyward.

I stood,

rake in hand

admiring the traitor

Red bud, Judas tree,

that blooms before Easter.

I hoped,

foolish as I was,

That the day of fools

would enlighten me.

It lightened the burden

But not my weight.

I saw myself

mirrored in the water,

sky, ice, leaves

and was gladly able

to love myself.

The Beginning

The barred owl in back of the houseĀ 
Sings it's song of contest.
"Are you there? How dare you!"
I have learned his song.
I sing it back with all of the owl in me.
His chicks must be near to hatching.
His calls are more intense each night.
Dawn will bring a murder of crows
And small sparrows to nip at his wings,
As the sun rises and he retires to a nest
With mate sitting and waiting
For parenthood to begin.



			
		

The Ides of March

The Ides of March are upon us and the fool waits around the corner.
Our bodies fight us, our minds turn and swirl with effort.
We are human, swirls of bright color in the dark of night,
Shadows to rest in where the cool soothes us.
My body betrayed me, my love of what I was lingers.
Hope is not hopeless, dreams reveal this body of compassion,
Shared hopes, shared anxiety, turbulent days, still moments
We are the storms of the lion, the still of the lamb.
All of us are the rays of the sun, even in the dark.