Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Fickle Sun by BrokenPenWriter

Walked a grey beach this January morn
dressed in winter and thick jacket
until the sun appeared, along with
that miraculous blue
I think it used to be called Sky
I returned to the cabin to write
but weeds spoke louder and heat rose
from damp beds of trespassers
Stripping off winter
I dove into shorts and sleeveless
wheeled my rusty barrow on nearly-flat tire
into the midst of sloping green lush
and began digging roots, pulling weeds
Two glorious nose-freckled hours later
nails chipped, cuticles stained with soil
back throbbing a digging pulse
that drum
signifying weeks of inactivity
painful but beautiful,
fulfilling song
Garter snake, robin, worms and ants
swallows and swifts, spiders and deer
hummingbirds, rabbits, beetles,
and oh-so-many slugs and I
a summer symphony
groans, sighs, shrieks, shrills
shimmer, buzz and breath
praying the sun will bask in our music
be entertained
and stay


Sunday, July 7, 2013

summer moved on by Igor Grey Balatsky


bright summer
was moving on
and on

and we thought
that it would
never end

and we were right
it didn't

the happiest summer

the saddest summer