Treadmarks

Roads are seasonal

whimsical things

the big ones can be seen

nearly year round

if you are a careful observer

but most of the smaller

shyer paths

can only be found

when the elusive

northern vehicle

lets its tracks burn through

the thawing ice

img_1521You can also lure out northern roads with salt

Some days, it amazes me how anyone survives the winter here.


For more tales of winter survival and elusive machinery, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Still Waters

The frantic energy of running water

seems like a force that can’t be challenged

and it is strange

to stand on the frozen bank

and no longer feel

the heartbeat

img_0472Water is the bloodstream, still or moving

I am always fascinated, and unnerved, by the way that winter puts life and movement on hold.


For more freezing, and thawing, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The River Runs

There are so many rivers here

They form the land’s bloodstream

Connected and connecting

Cut through and scarred by

Careless roads and railways

Still, they pulse, washing outwards

Always surging into the heartbeat

Of the sea

img_2342Life begins with water

I am always awed to be a small part of the many cycles that pass around me


For more cycles, wet or otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Intoxication

The birds flee

to coasts to rivers to

places where snow is a dream

and not a nightmare

There are always some that stay

small birds

more noise than size

They have strange ways of handling

the winter

Mostly, waiting until the ash berries

rot

and getting themselves drunk enough

to forget the cold

or be eaten by the sober hungry

img_1167Some coping strategies are less deadly than others

Intoxication is always more dangerous when things want to eat you.


For more coping, dangerous and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Garden Politics

The slugs were thick in the tomatoes

Curled into the leaves and scraping

holes

For the earwigs to fill

It was fireblight on the plum trunk

The plums defiantly sweet

In the face of death

Garden fruit and vegetables

all

Bearing proud battle scars

Nothing ate the zucchini.

IMG_2243Zucchini is a lesson that everyone refuses to learn

Survival is not necessarily a virtue.


For tales that don’t involve zucchini, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Sunny Daze

The woman didn’t plant the sunflowers the second year

The first year

she had tilled and let them settle and

in the fall

the birds came

and

as the weather worsened

the birds tore through the seeds

and spit out the pieces

to rise the next spring

in the fallow field

The moral of the story

of course

being that

Birds in bad weather will hock together.

(I’m not ashamed.)

IMG_2166Well, maybe I’m a little ashamed.

Sometimes you just have to commit puns. I make no excuses.


For more terrible puns, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Of Impossibilities (And Other Trellises)

So many people speak of things that can’t happen

In hushed tones of sincere smugness

That we decided to soothe

One of the smaller impossibilities

A minor god

In a major pantheon of

Closed doors

Our soil – infertile

Our weather – inhospitable

The first year even the crab grass retreated

It is a slow wooing

Of small things that shouldn’t be

Manure, trellises, and time

There is bedrock beneath us

And still these small blossoms

Open their impossible hearts

IMG_1997Persistence is the mother of possibility

Impossible dreams must be carefully tended.


For more persistence, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Cartography

Flowers don’t start in segregation

Our seeding was as balanced -and foolish-

As any ignorant gardener of the masses

The plants are shaped by the land

And the land shapes them

The war of the white roses

Claiming the wettest corner

While the thin line of flag

Irises

Holds firm to the sun

IMG_1484A beautiful map of invisible conflict

This is not actually metaphorical. Note: Don’t ever try to move rose bushes.


For more zones of conflict, invisible and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Cloudlines

Climb high enough

And you stand level with the heavens

The cloudline separating the messy

Business of living

From the clean dead blue

Of the upper atmosphere

IMG_1762Purity has its own price

Sometimes there is a usefulness in seeing the world from a different height or perspective, in understanding the point of separation.


For more contrasts and separations, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds- Lupin

As the heat rises,

Heavy in our throats and hearts,

So we take our bow,

Our bold palette laid before you,

A tapestry of hope and possibilities.

Shall we blanket the meadows,

Our seed on every rise?

Shall we burn under the sun,

Under the inescapable light?

Let us lay out the final hand before you

Our passage from the possibility,

From the half-formed dreams of spring,

To something fixed and final.

Let us pass boldly,

Our blossoms as loud as our hopes,

Let us pass from spring’s possibility to

Warm reality

Pass into

Summer’s unknown future.

IMG_1348Lupin- Imagination

Every May (and sometimes, the first week of June), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more hard won wisdom, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.