Cardinal

Boldness born on a barren branch

red flame in a sepia world

herald of spring enliven the landscape

stoke the coals of nature's imagination

sing the tune of what will be

gone with a rustle of a strong breeze

but your absence does not undo

your presence, you were and are here

your vibrancy a relief to hungry eyes

the world warm beneath your wings

Wind dance

The bare trees bow

to their queen the Wind

unable to resist

when she bids them Dance

arms lifted in exultation

whirling dervishes

whipped into frenzied adulation

of the force which animates them

and gives them Life

Snow fall

An afterthought of flurries

lighten the dusk

just a whisper of winter left

and even though they'll never

amount to anything

still they fall

because that's what snow does

there is no question in nature

of purpose, of meaning

they are one in the same

here they are, there they go

it is a wondrous show

Same sky

February has proved

that peace will elude me

as long as I exalt the snow

for its gentle lightness

while reviling the rain

for its harsh dreariness

serenity is understanding

they are two sides of one drop

falling from the same sky

Breakthrough

Maybe it doesn't always happen

like a dam giving way

water crashing through the cracks

with irrevocable certainty

Maybe it is more like the carving

of a great canyon over time

atom by atom the winding river

erodes the stubborn rock

revealing a path of patience

Maybe awakening isn't

the scream of a bedside alarm

and we are meant to linger

in the in-between a little longer

so that we can remember our dreams

Adaptability

Amazing how quickly

a cut rose can be revived

just a few fingers of water

in a mug I forgot to rinse

and already the petals

are fluffed like feathers

on a cardinal in the snow

soft and red and round

wrapped in the parenthesis

of old lipstick stains

and a ring of tea remnant

the grandiflora blooms

just as beautifully

as if it were lounging

in a priceless crystal vase

pronounced with an ah

Compline

Tolling bells give voice

to dozens of flames

beating an ancient rhythm

like wings of the seraphim

lining the centuries old church

candles in hurricane lamps burn

reflections in glass chimneys

dance around their source

cleaving and bending away

before melting into

a single brightness

while upon the alter votives

hold a range of luminosities

wild flares leaping high

reaching for the heavens

or maybe just hungering for a taste

of the wooden cross suspended overhead

as nearby tapers burn steadily

efficiently fulfilling their purpose

no more light than expected, no less

and a few faint flames flicker

exhausted and barely breathing

glowing dimly but still alive

effecting a mesmerizing grace

proving that it takes

a variation of brilliances

to illuminate the night