Anticipation
Deep shudder of the branches, there’s thunder in the pines
And rolls of billowing purple clouds sprawling out in lines
The pushing winded willows squeak against my shining pane
Trees stand in eager vigilance anticipating rain
Of Royalty
Ascending sun
glints upon the hoarfrost;
diamond tiaras crowning bushes
that yesterday like chilled naked paupers
shivered across the winter desert.
~ ~ ~
Steaming breath of winter
rises from limping
ragged fences
now
precisely
edged with frozen
dew, like old royal guards
in finest fur collars.
Snow
Sky feathers floating
free form dance of ice crystals
around steamed windows.
A North Wind Frenzy
Up through the ravine roared the north wind,
as if in a war against the first night of spring.
We heard the tin roof spread its wings
above our bed, in the dark of the mountain,
suddenly alive, and panting to fly away
with the wildly turbulent clouds.
We felt alarming thumps, and shrieks howled as
the metal yanked and twisted in an agony to
rip nails from their roots like
pulling teeth without novacaine.
It continued all night and morning.
At eleven, pale sun fingers crept out and
touched the frozen expanse of roof ice,
hanging down off the edges, long and thick,
with its cruel sharp claws of dripping icicles
pointing in crookedly toward the windows.
We watched as the sheets began to break off.
They fell for hours against walls shivering sharply,
piece by piece abruptly crunching against glass;
a dragon attempting to consume the house
bite by manic bite.
And the clamoring wind chimes
thrashed like frenzied lovers; at last
breaking their grasp
and falling to rest
in the soft white snow.
Getting the Mail
Boldly etched in vibrant color against the glinting snow,
red branch trees stretch slim, bright and bare.
Spindly mountain pines in moss and slate green
embrace the fields in silence behind me
as I crunch through the forest toward the road.
Delicate hoof prints crisscross where deer
pass to drink in the bustling creek below.
~ ~ ~
Two ospreys squawk overhead voicing suspicion;
startled grouse rise, surging in front of me
hysterically with loud strong wings.
Small scurryings trickle and rattle along iced
snow hills between the tamaracks and birch.
Jack rabbits, blue jays, and brown squirrels
unseasoned and fresh
are trying on the late winter morning,
to see if spring will fit.
Rocky Mountain August
In this unrelenting August sun
I find no relief as the rabbit might,
following the blistered briar path
to bide in the spindly woods.
Even the wildlife is in hiding,
with this heat, a recalcitrant visitor,
crawling thickly between the trees.
Sweat is a gown I would take back
to the store if only I had the receipt;
I couldn't bear the color.
But at five a.m. after faltering, smothered winds
have struggled for hours to swallow the parched air,
breath comes easily again. Deer families come,
the does racing their fawns, leaping across
the upper meadow, graceful, lively as quicksilver.
The bucks stand watch, slender, strong and lithe,
selective epicureans of grasses; until they all turn,
and melt up into the higher mountain together
into the shadows to drowse, and dream of autumn.
Sometimes they have used our untended garden
for their slumbers; we have seen the
tall soft weeds pushed down forming
their wide comfortable nest.
Dream on, deer, be free,
munch my dewy roses at sunrise.
Make your shelter here.
If I had a soothing haven,
I would be in it too.
Canadian Winters
*
*
I still
search in dreams,
for those
nights when the far north
wind came growling
its low threat around the windows, shaking
the house, and sending slivers of
chill through the air. A child enraptured, I would pull
the scratchy woolen patchwork quilts over my
head, and curl chattering in a flannel night-gowned ball, shivering up some
*
heat. With galloping heart, I savored the darkness, superbly alert to the impending
*
thrill of snow. For hours on those nights, as endless, impatient
time whistled through my mind, only a
single rapturous vision danced. The anticipation of the
following day held me fast, when
the damp drab gray winter world would have
been transformed into a
dazzling kingdom of diamonds
and white fire
with icicles glittering
in the
sun
*
*
Winter On Lake Pend Orielle
Frigid wind
skips white-whipped
over impossibly rich key-lime
waves on Lake Pend Orielle’s north curve.
Winter holds a frozen moat around the land
a thousand feet out from the shore, in a
shining gray steel embrace. Curling
round the moat’s edges, on the
waterline, a ragged, crusted
ridge of ice, each lap
of waves freezing
it fresh
white
Here
hungry wild
geese stand sharply
peering, perched to plunge in
for a fish between the bobbing shards
of ice set free by a temporary thaw, and
between the hundreds of protruding feet
and tail feathers of their busily
searching fellow mates.
They always seem
to know where
the fishing
is fine.
Wearing Down
Summer is wearing down
like a grizzled old man snoring
in a rocking chair on the porch;
the grass is thin and brown as
a threadbare rug; stagnant air
decaying with old memoirs
of spring loves long soured.
~ ~ ~
Summer is wearing down
like a worn shoe filled with holes
where the elation of welcome warmth
has fallen out. Cicadas drone like
a battery failing to start the car.
The fierce, relentless sky gleams
hot and bare, and baked earth lies
cracked from this tedious pulsing heat.
~ ~ ~
At last the tardy dawn begins to
tease, sprawling out later and
lazier, slanting lower, squinting
farther into the horizon;
luring a newborn autumn.
Last Leaf Clinging
Last leaf clinging,
gazing from dry yellow eyes at
the river below; swaying slowly on old
brittle bones; devouring one more hungry
glance before the snow. Releasing its
passionate clutch on the branch,
It sails in the wind’s
buoyant face
and gently
tucks in
softly
to
the
laced rich
earth's embrace
October
October
tiptoed in
during the night,
all lacy silken tasseled
shawls; draped in grey velvet
fog and gowned in misted maples
and firs. I opened my dawning eyes
and it was edging quietly round the
windows like a clandestine
lover who had been
watching me
sleep.
Evening Song
After this long hot span of afternoon,
The sun relaxes, sliding down, chased
By frolicking clouds in the rising wind;
This late May day gathers its purse-strings
To pull together, tighten, and close.
Gentle nighttime soughs a sigh.
~ ~ ~
The young cat on the fence thinks himself
Hidden, tense beneath lacy honey-locust
Branches, longing to catch the sparrows -
Amusing themselves flying over him
Through a sudden streak of sun’s last gift.
Gentle nighttime glides nearby.
~ ~ ~
White birch and poplars stand still, savoring
The breeze’s tickle beginning to tease them.
My long hair lifts as air currents play;
Bare toes curling in the deep chilling moss
Begin to yearn for fleecy slippers.
Gentle nighttime tiptoes nigh.
Heady Lust
When the gustin’ wind is blowin’
and the pine needles fly
I must always be a goin’
where my hankerins lie
~ ~ ~
There’s nothin’ like the heady lust
for sweet pine scents and all
and nothin’ like the musty rust
of maples in the fall
~ ~ ~
I’m drawn out by my yearnin’
to feel the autumn rise
like flamin’ bonfires burnin’
against the teal blue skies
Over Twin Sisters Pond
A fine display of royal lace caught
the radiant October sun this morning
glinting over Twin Sisters Pond.
Twisting and flashing it hovered over the water.
~ ~ ~
The huge wood spiders are busy
tatting resilient fretwork with their last
autumn artistry before the ice.
Thousands of feet in fifteen foot lengths
forming delicate threads of lights
strung from tree to tree.
~ ~ ~
Ready to cross the pond, they simply let go
and float with the wind, stringing their line
in a weightless ballet until they catch the next branch.
~ ~ ~
A regal exhibit as captivating as any Christmas finery
with the air currents shifting the transparent
filigreed rails of secret airborne trails
and sunlight glittering through
with a steady sparkling light show.
Grasses
Early September evening:
Grasses stretching in soft folds
Across the fields;
Shadows lying gently against them;
Patterns slowly shifting
Like smooth quilts moving quietly,
As the full moon rises
Blue and gray and silver.
mountainrecluse@yahoo.com
