WINTER'S ARRIVAL

Hard, hard rain
an all-day rain
cold damp to the bones
then slivers of sleet
against the bedroom window.

Too fast.
Too soon.

Until I see
red geraniums
laced white pure
snow in the early morning.

Return to top

WINTER'S SOLACE

Muted hues of gray
Dusk's last light on silent snow
December's own song

Return to top

MID-JANUARY BALLET

I can almost
count the flakes
as they
swirl
past the
kitchen window.

Cara's paw
tries to catch them
and then
my pencil
as it
moves across the page.

Writing
and
snowflakes
become
game for my cat
and
balm for my soul

as
winter
rather
gently
dances
her
refrain.

Return to top

LISTEN

Midst                                     Earth's 
  lily pads,                              sacred
   Mother of Pearl                    call:
     shimmers                              Across 
       blossom                               the pond, 
        medallions                           spring's 
         white                                   loveliest 
          pure                                     song: 
           water                                   solitary 
            reflections                           dogwood 
              in green                              'neath pillars 
               blue                                     of 
                fir.                                      pine.

Return to top

AND SO IT BEGINS
March 20, 2003

Spring has come to Lakeland.
It's not a warm day,
this first day of war--
overcast
but mild enough
for the daycare children
to play
outdoors.

Business as usual for most,
but different enough
for me
to abandon
scheduled class plans.

I read
"Pray for Peace,"
Ellen Bass's
eloquent plea,
and Maya Angelou's
"A Brave and Startling Truth,"
her song for humanity--
and we write
our responses: What
do we feel?

There are open windows
in the day's first class.
Children's
playground sounds
mingle with poets' words
and
students share
both hope and despair.

In my 3 p.m. class,
a solid glass wall
muffles birds' songs
and allows no fresh air.
Robert argues
the Bible's admonition
to obey God's laws
or be punished;
he reminds us,
"Vengeance is mine, saith
the Lord."
Heads nod their agreement.

And at dusk,
in the last class
of my Lakeland day,
I welcome the wind once again.

But former Marine Aaron
gets up and leaves
as we write our responses,
and I fear I have gone too far.

He later returns
to explain:
"'Shock and Awe.'
A clean war, Janet.
Precision bombing.
Less blood.
Less suffering.
Less death.
In and out
in less than a week,"
he promises us all.

At the back
of the last row,
beneath the open window,
Esma from Croatia
lays her head on her desk
and
weeps.

Return to top







HOMEWW CALENDARNETWORKINGBOOK REVEIW PHOTO GALLERY
WRITING
LINKSMARILYN'S WORDSARCHIVES

Web Design: Kristen Day
Contact at wordwomen@yahoo.com