There is no love like soul love,
no rain like a soothing spring shower
after a long dry spell. No one knows
for certain when the rains will come
only hopeful that it will replenish
the garden and not wash it away
in flood waters, the savage brutality
of Nature. When you see the clouds
approach don’t run for shelter but
dance in the dust and embrace the joy
of every drop secure in the knowledge
that new life will burst forth from the
barren Earth and nothing will be the same
as it was before being touched
by the Divine.
Stay tuned for my feature on Canada’s 150th birthday through poetry. First up will be the Gold Medal winner in my contest followed by my own foray into the field as well as other poets.
Midnight tickles your turned up toes,
dawn scrapes your knees
but your head is already in daylight
kissing the setting Sun and not me.
The scent of musk and the north woods
spark a scene, an arsonist’s rush…
don’t believe everything whispered
under a sage moon.
Memory is the landscape,
longing the river that meanders
like a lost child in dream.
Currents lead to dried riverbeds
and forgotten photographs, flotsam
on the once raging river.
Suddenly I find myself nowhere,
making sunshine out of oranges,
searching for roses on the moon.
Nostalgia is the theme for ‘Roses‘ and the final image, “searching for roses on the moon” refers to the impossible dream and hope in the quest; for, without hope, there is endless suffering.