SPRING FEVER
Last night I had a troubling dream.
High in a beech sat a camouflaged nest
of spider silk, moss and green lichen.
Two little hummingbirds darted,
wings beating frantically lest they fell
in search of nectar but finding none.
I awoke unsettled, determined to plant
beebalm, petunias, and trumpet vines,
baskets of lantana and fuchsia, then hang
a shiny red feeder with sweetened water.
I fell back asleep then dreamed once more of
gloves and rakes, spades, and hoes midst
leaves and twigs and pinecones.
I cried out “wait, I am not ready yet.”
And awoke knowing what was awry.
It’s that time of year and my diagnosis
a wicked case of Spring Fever.
Mary Blohm, Newbury NH
WELCOMING THE LIGHT
An arc of daylight creates a happy smile
grinning from 6AM to 6PM. The sunlight
melts any remaining snow freeing water
to seep into the ground, quenching earth’s
thirst, softening the soil, awakening roots
and bulbs from a long winter’s slumber.
The lost hour of sleep in March is stashed
away with winter doldrums into the closet
along with down jackets and snow boots.
Flip-flops are dusted off as bouquets
of seed catalogues propagate the mail
with colorful blossoms and basketball fans’
enthusiasm rises like the temperatures
as March Madness has them filling
in brackets trying to predict game outcomes
as to what teams will rise to the Final Four.
Debutante daffodils’ graciously come out
their fluted yellow cups drinking in sunlight
like champagne, welcoming the light with
a cotillion of golden beauties dancing with the wind.
Dianalee Velie, Newbury NH
ODE TO LIGHT
We measure you in lumens, watts, volts,
and insert you into filaments.
We think we contain you, but we don’t.
We see seven colors and their shadings,
and arrange you neatly in a wheel.
We think we describe you, but we don’t.
You cannot be created or destroyed,
You act as a wave and a particle.
We think we understand you, but we don’t.
You would laugh, if you could.
You weren’t born, you exploded.
A single point, hot and dense, thrust you out into a great nothing.
You surround us, always with us, even when hidden.
Our minds cannot grasp you.
.
Paula Minaert, New London NH
WHEN THE LIGHT RETURNS
When the light returns
Winter's icy grip slackens
The eternal contest lost
Stonewalls sheltered
Under frozen mantles
Like rounded helmets now exposed
Stand sentry, lining the Muster fields
Their wintery-white blankets
Warming, yielding, greening under
IN THE MORNING LIGHT
In the morning light, geraniums
Poised on the kitchen sill
Reach to kiss the window glass
Old house cat in tuxedo
Stretches slowly, blissfully
In the worn wing chair
Warming, her jet-black fur
Shining, sun-kissed, ever sleepy
SPRING EQUINOX
Vernal pools thawing, greening
With the Spring Equinox
Waiting, welcoming spring peepers,
Mating, salamanders sliding
Like the bees in the hive stirring
Frenzied workers fanning
The queen, her brood morphing
Alive, preparing to take flight
To swarm with the warm light
Like the black bear with cub beside
Lumbering out from the dense dark woods
To the lake's frozen edge, now receding
Winter's thirst slaked
Drinking deep, warming deep
On the sunlit sand
At the edge of the lake
Cathy Chesley North Sutton NH
WELCOMING THE LIGHT
The whisper roars inside the dark,
promising the bud, the lark.
The ray will shine its gift of light,
awakening from winter’s night.
Still the cold, stark rests upon
vacant meadow, frozen pond,
yet, hearts yearn for opening,
a softening, what thaw will bring.
Underneath the surges grow,
offering spring seeds to sow,
as sky frees raindrops from flakes,
greenery, as earth partakes.
Patsy Barrett-King, Newport NH
THE BOLT
I lay on the creeper,
staring into the abyss,
trying to see the bolt,
that I somehow missed.
I open the hood,
welcome in the light.
I can see it,
but it’s just too tight.
If I had a joint,
between elbow and wrist,
it would be easy,
I’d just reach up and twist.
But, the gods need pain;
a lot of cussing;
a stripped bolt head;
blood a’gushing.
So I grab the wrench,
gnash my teeth,
prepare for pain,
and roll underneath.
Douglas King, Newport NH
OUR TRACKS VANISH
Disappear into time
Betray our longing
For making a mark
This morning
I drove into a wash of spring light
Settled into the day
Alive in that moment
Grace kissed my cheek
Disappeared
Kathleen Skinner Shulman, New London NH
SUNRISE
OCEAN BOULEVARD
RYE , NEW HAMPSHIRE
Before the first rays of light can warm our bodies
Discomforting cold winds strike our faces,
Raising doubts we will witness this sunrise.
At first a red line stretched across the horizon,
Undercutting layers of clouds
Casting a faint light on a lobster boat (It's captain hoping for a payable catch.)
Silhouetting the Isles of Shoals,
And faintly outlining sea gulls drifting in the wind.
Restless with night being in charge
Mother nature's curtain rises on this endless play.
This intense fiery globe catches us off guard,
Winking at us with it's grand entrance
Some mistake it for a signal from an imaginary lighthouse.
Crisp fall colors blended and surrounded this emerging fireball
Intent on fulfilling it's destiny.
This celestial body enters it's realm
Infused with the energy of creation.
Horizon's clouds now disburses the suns rays to all intended parties,
Blanketing the rumbling sea,
Waking the land,
And stirring sleepy eyed people.
Finally, this giver of life, towers over horizons clouds,
Brilliant with dazzling celestial colors-reds, orange, golds and violent yellows
Igniting a fresh day which has happened a trillion times before,
But so new to us.
tom keegan, Bristol NH
LIGHT MELTS WINTER
I can see sun shining through
the woodpile. It is nearing the end
of February and cold. From the other
side I see the shadow of our morning
wood fire in the snow and I wonder what
the chickens are thinking as they look
up at me.
Light is thin. Sky goes on and on.
Shadows move as if alive, as if they
are a parallel universe with no color,
no blue jays puffed up against the cold,
no glow reflecting back from tree trunks
or into their delicate fingers reaching
for eternity.
From the window I watch as light
melts winter, dripping from the roof,
leaving brown patches across the ground.
Chickens tiptoe to find emerging bugs
and shift from one foot to another,
fluffed up feathers warming their
dinosaur feet.
Jennie Pollard, Windsor VT
UNTIL NEXT ROUND
Farewell
mornings we open
our eyelids
and remain behind
them in the dark.
Thank you
for reminding us
how to balance.
Farewell
hours of dormancy
in snow and ice.
Thank you
for reminding us
how to be grateful
come planting
and harvest.
Farewell
hibernation-quiet
that hides wildlife
and keeps us home.
Thank you
for helping us
appreciate our lives.
Amber rose Crowtree, Grafton NH
WELCOMING THE LIGHT
Desultory landscape drapes the lonely night
in somber midnight sorrow,
Framing winter’s sedentary void
in velvet crape drawn shadow.
Lo, there is a whisper of dawn
neath heaven’s, diamond speckled skyway,
A solitary beam of God-sent light that separates the Earth from night
and welcomes then the day.
We wait for it to be, as if in infinite dream
neither light nor dark nor any in-between,
Then – suddenly it appears
the promised light of creation – God’s breath amidst our fears.
The world welcomes dawn in silent reflection
as promised by the prophets,
Once spoken loud and clear in darkness
now shines, across the universe.
David Balford, New London NH
SPRING
The sharp cold
No longer in bones
On the flesh.
It bites. It excites.
Anticipation.
Feathered friends
Calling
Seeking companions.
Listen and watch.
But it is the light that calls
Promising warmth, longer days
Bringing hope, a new season.
Warmth, face to the sun
Blinking, smiling
Welcoming the light.
Seedling
I am whole
Yet in the dark
Struggling against the shell.
Legs burrowing downward
To settle in the earth.
My strength abounds with urgency
Moving upwards to the surface.
There I emerge
Welcoming the light.
State of the Nation
The devil walks among us
His minions close behind
The goal to create chaos
The truth is hard to find.
The devil walks among us
Lies, hate and doubt
Despair, fear and dismay
Follow him about.
Our allies fear our chaos
Trust worthy we remain?
The world is silently watching
Mostly with disdain.
Good men are among us
Their heads are hung with shame
Is this the America we promised
Our children would remain?
Good men are among us
Their silence hurts us all
Speak out against the devil
The duty of us all.
The hopeful walk among us
Dreaming of a future bright
They hold our future closely
With hopes of welcoming the light.
Jane White, New London
DESPITE APPEARANCES
Snow last night—
We measure half a foot, and sigh.
Birds, though,
trace spirals through translucent clouds
and joyous, measure trees for nests.
WRY TOAST
I reluctantly salute
this quaggy quaff of grit and gray
in its cloudy glass,
as your once-beaming eye pours rain again.
Old Sol, Here’s mud in your lie.
Joan T. Doran, New London NH