Tag: nature

Bud Break

~ Judith C Evans ~ 2 Comments

Bud break raises hope amid the freeze,
But early spring betrays the tender shoot
As March winds carry dry leaves where they please.

Sailing home from winter’s distant seas,
Dandelions rise from robust roots.
Bud break raises hope amid the freeze.

We fold our arms in much-too-short sleeves
And scour branches for their springtime loot,
As March winds carry dry leaves where they please.

Daylight hours cure our dark disease.
April beckons with her far-off flute,
And bud break raises hope amid the freeze.

Braver still, the sunlight begs to please
As dust collects on long forgotten boots
And March winds carry dry leaves where they please.

Too late! Not now! We sigh as flurries fly.
So sure we were that spring was drawing nigh!
Bud break raises hope amid the freeze,
But March winds carry dry leaves where they please.

Making Everything Good Possible

~ Judith C Evans ~ Leave a comment

I sit on our Idaho patio listening to the summer breeze,
Listening to the black walnut leaves rustle softly.
Middle age transforms into sixth grade vacation,
When New Hampshire summers stretched beyond the horizon.

Listening to the black walnut leaves rustle softly
Reminds me of cool breezes through Nana’s porch.
New Hampshire summers, stretching beyond the horizon,
Made everything good possible.

Cool breezes through Nana’s porch
Lulled me into daydreams,
Making everything good possible
As we planned an afternoon at Hampton Beach.

Lulled into daydreams,
I picture my footprints disappearing in wet sand
And remember afternoons at Hampton Beach
As I sit on our Idaho patio listening to the summer breeze.

Evenings Like This

~ Judith C Evans ~ Leave a comment

Blond fluff stretches out on the living room rug.

Our dog? It’s hard to tell.

In our Idaho bedroom and study,

A tall Texas bookcase towers against the wall.

Five red book spines accent rows of

White, gray, brown and darker brown volumes.

I set the clocks ahead one hour,

Amused by snow flurries amid the red maple buds.

Vintage Julia Child on PBS

Competes with our sloshing dishwasher.

Asleep in bed, you breathe smoothly.

Evenings like this, I write.