Skyline Surrender

A collection of meandering thoughts ...

I

Against the backdrop of the sky,
a carpenter bee hovers like a puppet on a string.
I think he's a peeper, always looking through my window.
I wonder if he has a camera on his wing?

II

The sugar maple stands silent
as its peeling bark turns to gray.
Its green leaves whisper in the wind
as a crow caws in his own melodious way.

III

Clouds caper over the hills
like a geisha's snowy sash unbound,
her powder-blue kimono come undone,
sinking, slowly, sweetly to the ground.

IV

The pine's tall stem creaks as it sways
like the old bones of Widow May.
She sips on the shade of space and time,
stamped like a sunset in her own primordial way.

V

Nature has nursed the grass with rain,
and there is a succulence about its sheen.
With speckles of yellow, violet, and white,
it reminds me of Monet draped in green.

VI

I watch "Red," my little cardinal friend,
peck at the corn and a variety of seeds,
while on the ground below two bluejays hunker
among the vines and leaves and weeds.

VII

Branches hang low under their weight.
A canopy of green circles this quiet place;
and I sigh for the sanctity, thankful,
for the peace and quiet away from the race.

VIII

The city streets and traffic snarls
are far in the distance away from me.
I escaped it all behind the mountains
of azure-jade-violet fleur-de-lis.

IX

When night falls black, the stars shine bright;
and the moonlight bathes the white-tailed deer.
They gather in numbers from two to five,
and I feel blessed to see them near.

X

The thunder and lightning portend a storm.
The winds grow swifter on rain-soaked wings.
Waters open the sky and waterfall down,
doubling at once the rivers and springs.

XI

The train tracks slash diagonally,
and the NS whistles its final cry.
I can hear it rumbling, its chooka-chooka-chook,
the lone sound of an era passing by.

XII

The clouds are moving away from me now,
heading south toward the chosen few.
The smell of rain lingers in the air,
and it has cleansed and made everything new.

XIII

This is my own piece of heaven on earth,
the glistening promise of a priceless pearl.
It is the skyline surrender to heaven's gates
and the rain that quenches this country girl.

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

Oh God thats how poets are thats how they see the world
they turn ugliness into something great
their eyes will never see but so much beauty
can sing of so much greatness ..we just do not see
its like another world not visible to every eye
but its there..close your eyes and look you will see
its right there..
and I sigh for the sanctity, thankful,
for the peace and quiet away from the race.
The city streets and traffic snarls
are far in the distance away from me.
When night falls black, the stars shine bright;
and the moonlight bathes the white-tailed deer.
The winds grow swifter on rain-soaked wings.
Waters open the sky and waterfall down,
The smell of rain lingers in the air,
This is my own piece of heaven on earth,
This is my own piece of heaven on earth,
how sweet ..what a lovely picture you draw here..how beautiful the place is
i swear i was there for a while ..it was raining heavy..the rain smell ..the green all around
its like i am in heaven..thank you linda for a while ..i forgot all my worries and i was standing there with you ,the stars the moon
everything was so nice..how nice

[Frank Terino]

This is beautifully written and presented, I really enjoyed reading your words, aspiring images
and sentimental feeling, keep up the great work.

[Sharon Miller Bolander]

Observations of nature and life going about a busy day make for the best poetry. This really is a wonderful collection to read and "view" through your wonderful rhyming lines. :-) Sharon

[Pax Analog]

A striking series of snapshots of passing scenes.

Good change-up contrast to a lot of your other work; nice range.

13 stanzas like lyrical documenary scenes.

"It is the skyline surrender to heaven's gates/and the rain that quenches this country girl."

You bring it all back home so sweetly. Excellent work.