Nature Innocence Poems

Winter's subtle brush and Spring's balmy stroke
On ragged frost to glossy flowers
Will on with the heaven's wheel go—
A passing through your new older hours,
The sun's...

Read More

Do poets always walk in the rain?
This poet once did
When she was but a kid.
The bathwater of summer drops
Cascading from suburban chimney tops,
Puddles on pavement
Begging...

Read More

Nothing that God created is dull...
harmony is found in clouds, in immense space,
in earthly landscapes, in sunrises that blaze;
if nothing stupefies us, these will!

Every sunset...

Read More

It's partial to Winter's bark gloom and weed bite—
Then comes Spring with his light massaging through stone,
In cold spots along her dark towering spine—
That lovers...

Read More

Winter with thoughtful wings slips upon
When her voice is too frail to hold life—
Everywhere green, this light she's from;
In gentleness back the forest bites,
As feathery...

Read More

In a realm beyond existence's mist,
Where dreams and reality coexist,
Two souls embraced in a playful tryst, 
Beyond mortal constraints, they resist.


 A fairy dance’s eternal...

Read More

I am being born 
again 
and again 
From above
Not from the will of men 

And in these births is one aching desire
to connect with you
my...

Read More

I wish I could touch the sky,
So high and high and high.
I wish I could capture the moon,
Taut and firm in my room.

I wish I...

Read More

Moving through tightly woven groves of young, thin, oaks
the air sits heavy on the skin like stepping into a sauna
wet earth mingles with decaying leaves,...

Read More

Whilst at school, in the years gone by, when as a child,

Impish I was, and sprightly too, but not so sure of my mind;

Followed the...

Read More

Fat drops pellet the ground.
Steps splashing, scattering ripples.
Ripples in time, circling out
from the moment, the here, the now, the present.
The present of laughter,
sheer joy at...

Read More

My turn over, leafy cheek saw and salvaged
From Autumn's remains— this Winter's surgery,
White stitchery for washed-out color; dead cells...

      ...

Read More

We are not going to hell
Tell the preacher man
To be upright with his words 
Cos we are not the reason 
Why tomorrow looks red 
We...

Read More

My chill flurries in 
the wind— with it, wild flower
Seeds to woo Winter....

Read More

The rote shivery wind is Winter's maid—
she breaks heart to own the season's floor;
via frost's degrees in my throat,
while my glean lancet's chills burn.
I tape...

Read More