In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.
Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.
Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.
Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.
As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.
Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.
Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush,
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.
Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.
Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.
The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.
Categories:
chirrs, bird, flower, nature, rain,
Form: Couplet
Beyond the cabin walls
a shimmering molt of starlight
brushes brilliance
over my black drenched car.
Snowflakes fall
disappear
then appear to float up
on weightless whisps
breathed out
from inky cisterns.
A chill window reflects,
it takes my picture
through a fisheye lens.
Behind me,
a log fire cracks and chirps.
The room chirrs warmly
like a fiddle in a ghost camp.
I turn to look at where I live
see only yesterday still unpacking.
Something in the timbers
creaks through listening ears,
a softy shuffling rumor
trails hollowly
like whispers in an empty clock,
but its just the wood
speaking its mind.
I think about future nights
here in the arboreal twilight
locked in by the weather
with only the tepid churn
of daydreams
providing narrowing paths
for my soul-searching.
Categories:
chirrs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
A molt of starlight on new snow
white slough over black drenched fields.
A window captures it all as a freeze-frame.
Glass reflects and takes my picture
through an eyeless lens.
Behind me, a log fire cracks and chirps
in the language of firebirds.
The room chirrs warmly like a fiddle in a ghost camp.
The cabins foundations are structured hollows.
it breaths through its long bones.
I turn to look at where I live, see only the past looking back,
I dwell within a camera.
Categories:
chirrs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Across the night
the shimmering molt of the stars,
a wane moon sweeping snow
over the black drenched cars, and all unwinding
into cisterns of darkness.
The chill windowpane captures them all,
all snow-chained together
in one paused freeze-frame of a rivering.
Logs crack and chirp as if birthing firebirds.
The room chirrs like a camp fiddle in a ghost tale.
The cabin rolls,
its foundations are structured hollows.
Tonight is caught travelling nowhere.
In these unanchored times, it is a home
lost in long darkened mountains,
beyond the reach of any log-raft;
trapped by the felled and still falling.
Yet this I know,
tomorrow will arrive
and its light will be as new as God’s first born.
Categories:
chirrs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The birds have all begun to sing.
Frozen days of winter took wing.
Warmly the robin chirrs of spring.
A blue jay swoops down from the oak.
His chilling jeer to mind invokes;
Fears from feckless fraudulent folks.
Red headed woodpecker pecks pine;
Rhythmic reminder, faith sublime.
Tapping a note, all will be fine.
Cardinals trill from dogwood tree;
Chirping birdie, birdie, birdie.
Singing a song of victory!
Categories:
chirrs, bird, spring,
Form: Rhyme
Sequence of winter icicles
frozen over like popsicles
we are puffed like dropsical
weathering snow we walk into
a fortress named, "Fairies Igloo"
to look for the girl in blue
she, Deity of the forest glen
has silky hair of red cayenne
and chirrs like a lovely wren
its the season of snow and love
as peaceful as a mourning dove
she was sent, from up above .
Jan 22, 2020
Categories:
chirrs, appreciation, beautiful,
Form: Rhyme
Across the night the silence of travelling lights,
the shimmering molt of the stars,
the moon sweeping snow
over the black drenched cars, and all unwinding
into cisterns of darkness.
The chill windowpane
captures them all as they creep from casement
to casement snow-chained together
in one freeze-frame.
Logs crack and chirp as if the fire where birthing birds.
There are ghost trees in the air, limbs creak
as the cabin adjusts to wind thrown spears.
The room chirrs like a camp fiddle, a mood music
for the tips of my warming fingers.
My aspect in the wall-mirror is itself glass,
I feel its features cracking,
the window pinging as heat and cold
scratch random runes across its glass.
The cabin rolls on invisible stalks.
its foundations are structured hollows of hope,
tonight it is travelling also
there are high seas
for these unanchored times, and home is
beyond these dark mountains,
beyond the reach
of this log-raft nailed together in a kinder season
when nights did not block all paths
with their felled and fractured blinders.
Categories:
chirrs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Across the night the silence of travelling lights,
the shimmering molt of the stars,
the moon sweeping snow
over the black drenched cars, and all unwinding
into cisterns of darkness.
The chill windowpane
captures them all as they creep from casement
to casement snow-chained together
in one freeze-frame.
Logs crack and chirp as if the fire where birthing birds.
There are ghost trees in the air, limbs creak
as the cabin adjusts to wind thrown spears.
The room chirrs like a camp fiddle, a mood music
for the tips of my warming fingers.
My aspect in the wall-mirror is itself glass,
I feel its features cracking,
the window pinging as heat and cold
scratch random runes across its glass.
The cabin rolls on invisible stalks.
its foundations are structured hollows of hope,
tonight it is travelling also
there are high seas
for these unanchored times, and home is
beyond these dark mountains,
beyond the reach
of this log-raft nailed together in a kinder season
when nights did not block all paths
with their felled and fractured blinders.
Categories:
chirrs, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Spring brings the red-breasted robins
To fill the early morning hours
With their cheery chirrs that beckon
The sun to waken the flowers.
Dewy heads of dandelions
Are first to stir from nighttime sleep
Like little yellow rising suns;
And from the trees in nests are cheeps
From newly hatched robin fledglings.
On the dew-covered grass below
A parent thrush struggles, tugging
At a worm lodged in its dark hole
While silent shadows fade away
And springtime births another day.
Categories:
chirrs, nature
Form: Verse