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 Recollection
Just A Glimpse, Just A Shadow Across The Floor, An Edge By The Door, Only A Murmur, A Silent Crash, Just A Flash As It Moved On, Then It Was Gone.
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 Ennui
Climbing Over The Bump Of A Post Holiday Slump, Lazy And Slow. An Effort To Go Back To The Usual Toil, Celebration Can Spoil Work, And I am Inclined To Shirk That Cutie, Duty. I sigh, And Have Another Slice Of Pumpkin Pie.  Cold Tuesday
Rising Sun Gilds The Evergreen A Dense Sheen Of Gold, Turning Old Brick A Rosy Hue, Banishing The Dew. No Matter What Harm The Frost Can Do To Chill The Winter Day, We Are Warm As Long As The Sun Will Stay Strong.  Penultimate
The Winter Feast Day Is In Full Gear, This Year In Retreat, While We Are Getting Ample To Eat. As Morning Came, I saw A Crow Fly Into The Sky’s First Glow, To Hang For A Nanosecond On The Crescent Moon, Effervescent And Eternal In The Waxing Light, Then The Crow Fell Out Of Sight.  Advice
Never Mind Trying To Shut Love Out, Give It A Shout. If You Miss Her, Say So, And Kiss Her. Why Push Under The Rug Intense Desires For A Hug? Don’t Be Affection’s Sucker, Pucker Up, And Kiss Her. Foolish To Refuse, Her Absence Gives You The Mean Blues. Tell Her The Glad News, And Just Kiss Her.  Dew Point
Fog Came In On Gigantic Feet To Fill The Street, A Misty Cloud To Shroud The Dawn And Obscure The Lawn. Cars Crept By, As Behind The Wheel, Commuters Drove Entirely By Feel. I sipped My Tea, Glad It Wasn’t Me, Headed Where I couldn’t See.  *Glance* 48" H X 36" W Echo
Wind Trembles The Fallen Leaves And Rustles Under The Eaves, Whispering Remember, Remember, Every Day, This Cold December.  Twenty Degrees
A Mourning Dove In My Yard, Fallen From Above, Wings Spread, Quite Dead. Over It On The Walk, A Sharp Shinned Hawk, Poised In Cold Winter’s Need, Possibly To Feed. I hurried Out To Stop The Rending, Fending Off The Predator With A Rake, Scooping Up Weathered Feathers, Curled Claws And Pink Feet, And Put It In The Dumpster Across The Street, Frozen Flight, Lost Over Night.  Contact
Sparrows Line Up Like Rick Rack On The Telephone Wire As Calls Transpire. When To Meet For Tea, With Someone You’d Like To See, A Word To Thank, Or How To Rob A Bank, Say Yes Or No, Or Decide To Go Some Place You’ve Never Been With A New Friend. The Birds Know, While Down Below, Sleek And Fat, Waits The Eavesdropping Cat.  *Third Finger, Right Hand* Crushed
Yesterday, Working In The Yard, I dropped A Rock And It Came Down Hard On My Finger. I will Not Linger On Curses I uttered Or How I shuddered. Now My Nail Has Turned Blue, And I still Have Work To Do. I am No Gardener, This Is True, But A Poet, And Don’t I know It. |
AuthorJeanette Collins Archives
August 2024
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