Seaside

The morning’s maiden waves, each creeping claw
the dark and dewy shoreline, gentle, soft,
yet full of nature's willful might. They paw,
they swell and curl, then lapping leap! Aloft
the salted lea, ascending, combing cold
the sand; again, again, a chorus rote.

They paw, and paw and claw, and cresting fold
before the patient shore. The misty boats
and bayside birds a-sail, each distant dressed
in morning, floating silently in flight,
above, behind the waxing waves. A guest,
I wordless watch them kiss the dawning light.

I watch, I watch the round horizon burn,
and each wave crested, waning white return.

Inquiry/ Winter's Reply

Inquiry

O' frozen Winter, breaking, fell and bold
with iron will, you come to Fall destroy;
With pillars tall, your boisterous call and cold,
agape and robed, to silent Autumn's joy.

In shades of gray, your frost-sewn quilt, a-drape
upon the dawning, covers Autumn's flame.
Your dark and dancing loom, its icy shapes
spin no escape; You austere life reclaim.

O' songless Winter, have you verse or poem?-
To speak of death, of frozen breath, of tombs
and sunless skies, for fear she does not roam.

You barren knight, born shapeless from what womb:
Declare, and forthright render some reply,
O' brazen, wayward Winter, tell me why.

Winter's Reply

Long years I've come, long years my winds have blown.
Through endless each, with verse, and tears, and rhyme,
I've kissed and pondered, every tree and stone.

Of all I've seen- of life, and death, and time,
no final sleep, to Autumn's end compares.
Through lifetime's passed, my full and frozen tears
in mourning fall, to beauty's end declare.

With marbled moon, and wandering woodland deer,
a widow wrought in mourning, lonesome left
to Autumn bury; Burdened to lament
in melancholy song of joy bereft.
My shadowed tears begin their dark descent.

I ache, O' ageless ache and waking yearn,
For Autumn, fallen fair to sweet return.

Response

O' solemn Winter, surely Autumn dies;
A death, its sacrifice brings lasting life.
Its short lived beauty, gold and scarlet skies,
each towered tree with crimson crowned- their strife
brings joy, and blessed birth to blissful Spring.

Its parting, selfless sets each unborn bud,
each latent leaf and lily free! and brings
a beauty new, born fresh of Autumn's blood.

O' gentle Winter, wrought in sorrow's song,
forgive my senseless blame; take rest, rejoice
on silent hills. Come hither sit, and long
relieve your wearied winds, your virtuous voice.

Rejoice, say I, for Springtime all aflame,
Will rising drench the dawn to life reclaim!

Woodland Chimes

The trees are full, with cheery song,
Of merry minstrels, morning long.
They call and sing, in each, full green,
Beneath the leafy, shade unseen.

Faceless, nameless, fond and feathered,
Upon the branches, warm and weathered.
Song-birds each, on woodland wing,
Wistful songs, and warbles bring.

Amidst the dawning's sun-strung tears,
Cry the mourning, chime the cheers.
Harp strings spangled, softly strewn,
Perching pluck, their playful tune.

What burning red, what royal blue;
What color breasted, hither flew?
What fair tufts, what eyes gleaming,
Witnessed dawn, in moonlight teeming?

I rise and wander, each tree past,
Across the velvet, meadow vast.
With humble might, and willful eye,
To hark the song-birds, caw and cry-

To catch one flashing, color bright,
Behold this wondrous, woodland sprite.
For to glimpse each minstrel free,
Chirping chiming, merrily.