9-19-14
Woods are filled with whys.
Twigs, branches, trunks, ask
questions I can’t answer.
~ Mary Weems
O’Neill Woods
The beginning of winter.
Two lines of headlamps move
on opposite sides of a valley.
Between the trees and the sky,
only the lights show where they are going.
The two lines stop at a parking lot.
The lights go out.
A few stars shine in the night sky.
Trees and shrubs wait in the darkness.
Now a few cars start, motors turning.
~ Daniel Bellinger
Winter Words
The opening of things, the closing too
light fades around the corner
the mind is a palimpsest
layers of half-forgotten musings
recede into the background
and surge forward
when aligned with
the foreground pattern
of the present
the sun obscured by clouds
our star reduced to a plain white disk
over the course of hours
the snow piles up —
a shivering blanket for the land
inside I remain warm
huddled under covers, hats,
wool socks, cotton sweaters
the hours count words too
they drift and sway down —
a thin blanket for the page
one word buried by the next
laying about, loitering in the mind
~ Jayce Renner
Age of Aquarius
In this forest
of a different god
where angels’ eyes
are closed and kissed,
stained glass walls
will not be missed.
Ash and oak drink in
the sacred dawn,
their branches stippled
by the rain.
Silver fingers trace
the veins
of flower children,
whisper patterns
to them in the womb.
Stars give birth,
constellations dance,
and earth
returns a joyous
music to her
fields. Songs long
dormant now explode,
flinging wide
the change encoded
in the matrix
of the soul. Rejoice!
As we forgive us
of our sins.
This is where
it all begins.
~ Dianne Borsenik
FIN