In the Poet’s Heart

100_1652

In the poet’s heart we hold the light dancing with colors

filling our phrases shaping,

guiding, directing the surge of words

through us

the intensity into our pens,

confident.

And in our decreasing

we seek a river

or an ocean

dolphins playing in the waves

to fill us

once again.

     

Poetry, and Image © Copyright 2016, revised 2020, ancient skies

I Turned My Eyes

100_1102

Having rejected despair, I turned my eyes to the depth

of the oceans,

the unlimited horizon,

sunlight speaking,

restoring me with peace,

as the pine trees stood strong

and steadfast

along the shoreline.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

On the Third Day

20191019_103711I was in prayer on the third day having been summoned by the mountain,

I began to climb the steep path but it was nothing but rocks and pitfalls, so battered and bruised

I hurried, realizing we needed to defeat the crows, keep them from filling the pine trees,

so bluejays could build their nests……and spring would come to us this year……finally and at last.

               

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: The term third day here, means the third day of the week, which is Tuesday. This is fiction.

Mystical Snowstorm

20180204_121555

As I watch from the back of our a house, a mystical snowstorm embraces, engulfs the top of the mountain,

following the ridgeline, wind howling, raging into swirls, some sleet falling, tearing

at the bare limbs of the forest, and I wonder can there be any beauty in the middle of a storm?

Or should we expect the fire of an ancient prophet, or maybe visions of a flaming sword?

A few minutes later a quiet snow descends, reaching our neighborhood, as the wind moves softly now,

and God speaks, this time using the pine trees.

           

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Note: We can see the mountains from where we live. Storms begin there and move in our direction.