Expect colder temperatures tomorrow,
with breezes and occasional gusts
as clouds roll into the valley.

Inimical words
said in harsh tones.
Rumblings of cold and dampness
chase away the songbirds at dawn
and leave a heaviness in the air,
before a pattern of
droplets on the grey sidewalk.

Yet, for all their blustering,
the clouds will simply move
towards the horizon,
leaving with a windward song
of whistling reeds,
thrashing branches,
and percussive accent.

The remains are of a movement
with felled limbs,
just scattered, silent instruments
of a raucous symphony
and the players have left the stage
for other venues.

Expect this change tomorrow
with songs both loud and slow,
the almanac tells me so.

Fairer than all the rest which there appeare
Though all their beauties joynd together were;
How then can mortal tongue hope to expresse
The image of such endlesse perfectnesse?
–Faire is the Heaven by Edmund Spenser

Give me time
and I will give a song,

I suppose it’s in my blood
and courses through me.
with rhythmic flow.

I see harmony,
intercalating with the air
I breathe.

And as modulations blossom
between the lilac and lavender,
and subtle melodies meander,

I recall music,
when the smooth petals of light
silhouette above her symphony.

What essential language calls a dream.

***********************
April was National Poetry Writing Month, where participants wrote a draft poem a day. I completed the entire month (for the first time in 4 tries). It was fun, and I ended up with some nice bits and pieces to work with. This one is actually the combination of two different drafts from NaPo, along with some revision.

Cutting snowflakes in the sun
with different faces
-not just one-
to melt away
a frozen shun.

Trimmed paper snowflakes, cut and run
across the window pane.

Memories hung in noonday rain.

Simple snowflakes, drifting down,
to light upon a waiting tongue.

Nestling in to thaw and wane.

But after nightfall’s roll begun,
what’s taken and remembered, one,
was making snowflakes in sun.

*************
April is National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). I wrote this one last year (during NaPo 2010), and have been working on it some recently.

It’s all very mysterious
how things work inside molecules,
the clusters of grapes and cherries
surrounding an unseen core.

Whether hidden bonds elongate or contract,
whither severing or uniting,
-with sounds of conception and formation-

there must be rules governing
their creation and future collaborations.

Or they could be tenets of faith,
-just like when
daffodils lean into the sunlight,
lovers linger in a first kiss,
or songs echo in cathedral rafters.