as the rays of dawn

There was one

Then another

And yet another, still.

I am not certain,

If someone started on the inside

and drew outward.

Or if they started on the outside

and drew inward.

It doesn’t really matter which way it was created.

The important thing

Is that the goodness cannot be contained.

Hope spreads gently,

Yet, as insistently,

as the rays of dawn

through the emerald leaves of September.

****

ellie894 September 4, 2021

Not really

American Beautyberry

Out walking.

Only one here.

Except for..

The tall white crane

And the far away train

A dozen turtle noggins poppin

And a woodpecker squawkin

Magenta polka dots

Hidden in all the right spots

Spider up high

And, Miss Duck closer by.

When I arrived she was in the hand

Of the outstretched log

Peering into the watery deep

Face to face with more than I could see

But, with a hop and a snap

Just like that!

She jumped full feathered in

With a light quack for a good long swim

So, there I am.

The only one here….

But, not really…

****

ellie894 September 2, 2021

the taste of life

Crepe Myrtles
Pear trees laden with fruit
Painted Lady on a ripened pear
Butterfly in the light

Only a few steps from home there is a row,

Of peeling and rosy trunked crepe myrtles.

They stand sentry,

between the the bend in the black tar road –

⁃ and the jumbled grassy green.

If you want to see the tender pinks of them,

You must look up and away,

For they bloom, so very skyward.

But when, late August catches them..

..falling..

….

they

become

a gentle

precursor

of just

around

the corner..

..Autumn.

And, there behind these slender reaching myrtles,

There are two,

old fashioned,

honest to goodness pear trees.

Their mottled gray bark is rough to the touch.

And their branches are bowed deeply,

As if in prayer,

With the bounty of the earth at their very edges.

Pear trees do not sway easy.

Not like a willow in a breeze.

They lumber in the hands of the wind,

Always holding strong to the weight.

One by one the heavy pears drop,

..from the surety of the tree,

To lay among the weeds and the wildflowers.

Under late summer’s sun,

The skins burst and the flesh is set free

As the sweetness of time itself unfolds.

And the butterflies come..

To taste of winter’s rest and spring’s new beginning

Of summer’s warmth and autumn’s letting go

Of the silence of the moon and the fire of the stars

This bountiful feast of the seasons

Long prepared

And so carefully laid

And the butterflies come..

To taste of the life in all things…

****

ellie894 August 29, 2021

gifts

The tall grass reaches to my waist

And tickles my knees

The mid morning sun warms my back

Like a hot stone in the deep of winter

The soft clouds hover

And suddenly,

I long for the shade of them

to come closer

Brought by the breeze

And linger a while…

the trees close in around me instead,

Bee in the beautyberry

Faery in the butterfly pea

And I realize I have come

Without food for thee…

I’m sorry for such

So I make a promise

To return soon with something more,

And then the water will churn

Without help from the wind

As he comes from unseen places

To take the gifts

From my open hand…

****

ellie894 June 30, 2021

long lost sun

Just when I was going to begin building an ark, the rain stopped and the sun began to shine. The words flutter and clutter so here am I to set them free. If I simply write without erase, will I return at another time and see mistakes. Things so out of place. Will I sigh and begin to fix them. Line breaks, misspellings and too many commas,,, or not nearly enough. But I am inclined to say there are far fewer things in this world that need fixing and far more that simply need to be loved.

So I will let them shine like the long lost sun. And instead I will marvel at the empire that rests atop the world, carry seed to a place where there isn’t any, shudder at the slither through the tall grass that reminds me why I wear boots… take cautious steps so as not to land on the baby hop toad, and listen….to the whisper of a wing upon the wind…

****

ellie894 May 27,2021

already….

Already, it is warmer

than yesterday

and I hear the train

beyond the hummingbird

and well passed the hush

of windless leaves.

Clouds came early

and faded the rainbow

slipping through

the locked tight door.

They are gone

as the train is also

and the rainbow vanished

on this now

cloudless day.

Perfect tiny triangles

flutter at my feet

forward but not fast,

they call to me,

as slowly as the tree grows,

they say

or you shall miss it.

Miss what…

You’ll know it

when you move

as though time

stands still,

and It

lands upon

your open heart….

****

ellie894 May 7, 2021

the meeting….

It seems to me

that time is always racing

east to west.

It feels to me

that wind is always hurtling

west to east

…..

I think

I’ve found the place

where they meet….

****

ellie894 April 19, 2021

welcome….

There are field butterflies

and mailbox butterflies.

There are those who dance

in the faery wood.

And those that laze the day

away, near the water’s edge.

There is even

a grand yellow swallowtail

who dwells in the shade

of the wizened old oak tree.

So that,

with every step I take

I am in the home

of one or another.

As surely as if

I had knocked upon a door

and had it thrown open to me

in a whispered cry of

Welcome!

****

ellie894 April 18, 2021