An archive of recent trinkets

 A red-winged blackbird on a cattail

will always recall

the pond at the edge of our land,

The furthest we dared go.

A slash of red and yellow

wounding the soft black,

The single unwavering band of light

we all carry.

~~

Around my feet the  withered leaves

that fell away last season

Lay bare their veins like icy sieves;

I let go for a reason.

And yet my naked limbs are cold,

exposed, embarrassing.

I reach for what is spent and old

while waiting for the Spring.

~~

In Winter,

as The Horned God sleeps,

glutted from the harvest,

remember that the sun is not the only light,

and that you are not withering,

but waiting.

~~

There's something to be said

for this soft and cozy bed

with a warm and cozy blanket

pulled up around my head.

But there's just as much to say

for another lovely day

scaling walls and facing dragons

that are standing in my way.

 

Impossible to choose, 

so while the coffee brews

I'll linger nine more minutes

in the limbo known as snooze.

~~

Nature shows herself in such a way

that we see Art in every little place--

Or is it far more accurate to say

what we call Art is that with Nature's face?