Changing Month

The thread of summer draws away,
A ball of color, fades and grays...
And leaves that once were gold with growth
Have fallen, brass, upon the coast.
The curving mouths of shores are seen
In silver tides instead of green
And somewhere, jackdaws cry, "It's come!"
The winter, with her friend autumn.
A hope, a hope in winds remain
That heat still tempers out the rain
That life, however brief its course
Continues on, though sounding hoarse.
A bluebird turns his little eye
Surveys the lawn, the field, the rye
Its salmon beak seems yet to say,
"Oh, summer, won't you come to stay?"
With memories of open skies
And stroking wings, and breezy sighs
It seems a cruel act of God
To change the color of the sod.

Back to Creation's Joys

Errant heart, remember me:
The lonesome dove, the flitting bee
The curving sun, the moonlight's sphere
The changing month, the turning year.
Errant heart, remember me:
The flying star, the foaming sea
The shapeless cloud, the ardent rose
The summer heat, the winter snows.
Errant heart, remember me:
The jagged hill, the casting green
The velvet fawn on bended knee:
Return, dear heart: remember me.

River

Wild the river, faster the flow
Dozens of torrents weave stories below:
Quickly, the heart of the swift-rushing flood
Gentle admission of ocean's white blood.
Startled the sunlight from pale summer beams
Rippled and ripped from its heavenly dreams
Careful, yet careless of life in between
Earth and the skies, skies and the seas.
Fearless the cord of the crumbling falls
Freed from the earthenware banksides and walls:
Peerless with thunder, dauntless in time
Federal blue with its saltwater shine.
Endangered by beauty, encompassed by force
Curling and growing and swelling its course;
Daring to alter no tidal or wave
A life-giving wonder, a trembling grave.