Spring Clean

Spring Clean

I’’m letting go of all the bits and bobs

that have accumulated in my heart –

feelings that no longer fit or that pinch

its soft places. I’m sweeping out the

people and places that have gathered in

corners like spider webs. I’m doing a Spring

clean in the basement chambers, going

through boxed up memories, keeping only

the most precious and releasing the rest

to be blown away by winds of change

Golconda by Rene Magritte

Everything We See

Holes in the Heart

Holes in the Heart

How sharp does a word need to be

to pierce the shield woven around a heart?

As sharp as a knife blade or the thorn

on a rose bush, or could it

be a single pin prick couched in the soft folds

of tenderness?

Quadrille #197: Look Sharp, Now! (Let’s write a poem.)

The Art of Spring

She sat at her easel, like an old dutch Master,

trying to capture the essence of a bouquet of daffodils,

bathed in the morning light shining softly through her kitchen window.

Her paints were carefully mixed by hand to create shades of

yellow – golden dawn, golden echo, and lemon beauty. She sketched

their ruffled petals, so like lacey lingerie, and wished she could paint

the scent of them – a love call to bees.

Poetics: Daffy for Daffodils, Sprung in Spring

Just a little poem for those of us who will be changing our clocks tonight.

Gains

Here we are, spinning the hands

of our clocks once again – adding

the hour we stole from the morning

to the end of the day. Gaining not time,

but an hour more of birdsong, sixty minutes

of bees and butterflies, thousands of seconds

in which to find peace as day dissolves into night.