Tag Archives: nature poems

with toes in stream 

,the world just seems a kinder place, a gentle grace of moon-spill murmured song.  our feet a-swim, we pebble stories, rebel glories; bid our lungs to hum along.  :: In November, we poem.

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The Princesses Finally Rage Quit {And Form a Nature Society}

You might find them in the woods, if you can get past the nymphs (who are on their side). They only want the  kiss of breeze, the romance of trees, the squeeeee of mud-lucious squish between unadorned toes. They’re done  with spells and slippers and … Continue reading

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have you met

  -a four? the sun’s a butterscotch candy on hungry tongue. those stars are pinpricks; the sky’s a scrim, the moon its door.   meant this five?  waggling fingers in song, stacking words to walls; palming psalms and silence. her head a cloud, her heart a poem.  all that’s … Continue reading

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barefoot and be-longing

, she talks to frogs and speaks the braille of trees, fills her hands with the wispy ghosts of clouds and sings out loud in cobalt blue and pine-pressed green. these things, they save her. they steep her deep in … Continue reading

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murmur stone

    A second Quadrille offering, created at magnetic poetry. 

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Poem for a grackle {left on an olive leaf}

.. What a relief for you to caw me your truth, written in -visible ink on this ridiculous sky.   .. In April, we poem.     

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Lake of the Sky

.. When you slip on ……..your cobalt best, …………..I find myself on your shore. There are small kingdoms ……..here, sandcastles of …………..my own small making. Do you see the geese ripple ……..your surface? They etch …………..a new language – I … Continue reading

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of Limbs, and Liquid Skin

.. O, Tree. I know the quiet ache of leavings, shedding selves. I, too, have felt bruised, used. O, Ocean. I feel your heartbeat under my own skin, the ebb and flow of spring. The scorch of sun. The pull … Continue reading

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I Wish I Could Eject My Tail

                    .       ..

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Windward

(a found poem blown from Theodore Roethke’s ‘Words for the Wind’) . Bees and lilies there were; thought does not crush to stone. I hate my epidermal dress. …………..Kiss me, ashes, I’m falling through a dark swirl. (Slow swings the … Continue reading

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