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Scenes of the Seasons
Spring has arrived the trees are green
Sprinkled with tiny blossoms of life anew
The
gossamer of dewy sheen
The flora's offspring in colorful hue
Summer brings heat and light
The flowers on
the saplings bloom
The hot winds blow through day and night
Floral fragrances fill the room
Autumn appears
with clouds and rain
Trees are clothed in a fiery gown
The days get shorter as daylight wanes
Oak's golden tresses
come tumbling down
Lastly frigid Winter makes its presence felt
The leaves are gone, the branches crack
Snow
covers all boughs in a pure white pelt
Seasons follow seasons right on track
Whispering willows, with graceful dance , bowing to the ground
In obeisance to the brooks, with their rippling music sound
Through the branches of the oak, night is darkening the track
As shades of sunset trickle through, from golden to night black
All the creatures in the wood, preparing for sweet rest
In the campers lighted tent, softly glows the human nest
Velvet darkness sprinkled with stars, blankets the earth below
Silver shafts of moonlight, embalm with ghostly glow
The brown owl heads towards its home, before the dawn of day
Red shafts of sun soon filter through, and shadows fade away
With chilly light the birdsong floats, throughout a misty sky
All the living start to toil, their needs to satisfy
THE STORM (Hurricane Iwa)
Graceful palms swayed in the tropical breeze
Oahu, Hawaii, the gathering place.
Crimson and gold sunset painted the sky
Waves rolled up silver beaches, an unhurried pace
Just before sunset in nineteen eighty-two
Eve of Thanksgiving, November twenty-three
The sky became darker, with menacing clouds
Strong winds whipped up a tumultuous sea
Trees blown down, scattered on streets
High winds howling, torrential rain,
Work place flooded, stores all shut
Chaos encompassing, my world gone insane.
Water is off, gas stations closed.
Flying debris, windows taped over
Shack and storage blown apart
Gathered in basement prepared for cover
Many loose objects soar in the air
Incessant rain seems never-ending
Regal trees their branches torn bare
Yielding palms before the wind bending
Suddenly silence, the storm's eye overhead
Cessation of sound, eerie and still
Time suspended for momentous duration
Again the frenzied tempest wakes, shrieking and shrill
The howling crescendo tears at the soul.
Then it is over as fast as begun.
The next day is Thanksgiving,
And with the dawn, we see once more the golden sun.
We prayed outside our home and also within
With God's protection not one flower pot fell
Our roof, home and family intact
Although encircled by a turbulent hell
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The Rose
Feel the velvet softness,
Of the petals of the rose.
Inhale the subtle fragrance,
Many facets will disclose.
Shades when mixed will blend,
From deep red to snowy white.
Soft pastel pinks, dusky damask
Some are yellow, sharp and bright.
They grow in groups or climb the wall,
For those happy and those that mourn.
In bouquets they are a grand array,
But best beware their thorn.
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A Quiet Place.
Visage raised towards the wind
Around me beauty rare.
Mountains, streams and vales of green.
My soul sings, released from care.
My spirit refreshed in a gentle rain
Peace envelops my mind and heart
Heaven is here for a while on earth
A small refuge that God set apart.
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| snowy day: artist geraldine shadian |
Snowy Day
The clouds were dark and heavy with grey
Another blustery cold winter day
The pathways sprinkled with freckles of white
From each wooded homestead shreds of light
A lone shrinking figure trudges away
While bone chilling winds surround him in play
Each footstep erased as a snow flurry rolls
The pathway gets slick, he draws close to the poles
His journey is slow, thick flakes blinding his sight
By instinct alone he gets his path right
Home beckons to him, like a whispering song
Anticipation makes his walk less long
The glowing warmth in this day freezing and grim
The family that watch through the window for him.
march 2007
Geraldine Shadian: Poet
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