Thursday, April 2, 2009

April's gift

The flirtatious brush of spring’s pale sun on your cheek

The kiss of the young wind, hair tousled laughingly

The sway of hips, ducks rolling with the fresh new flow of the river

Hidden churnings, burnings of permafrost’s shift

Small ones, crawling ones stretching, stroking the open land

The warm grip of the knotty pines, roots holding firm, holding firm their sandy lover

A secret embrace, the furtive scent of an unmade bed

Delight’s deep, throaty laugh

Rachel Westfall
April 1, 2009

13 comments:

LIRIO said...

furtive scent
mmmm

Faith said...

Beautiful and so full of renewal:)

Woman in a Window said...

Throaty, earthen and fresh. So spring is not so bad afterall.

Love the rolling hips of ducks on water.

Catvibe said...

I love this. It is so sensual and dreamy.

christopher said...

Thanks Rachel for the inspiration. This one is a memory.

The Unmade Bed

The way the bed looks
when you leave it on mornings
when we don't sleep in
is precious to me.

It's my job to make your bed,
we agreed to this,
as if you're the Queen
Mother and me the worker
bee buzzing around.

It's always spring here.

Karen said...

What a sensuous and beautiful descprition of nature!

Julie said...

This one should be in a collection of Earth Day poems. But it would be great in any collection. I love it all, but those last three are breathtaking!

Spring me free said...

Rachel: Your words blossom into life; they flourish :)...Shine-On

The Peace of Wild Things When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life

and my children's lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water,

and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light.

For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

SarahA said...

I am gonna have to go write me some Spring words.Oh yes.
This is so gentle and soft just like Spring as she begins to enter in all her finery.

RachelW said...

Thank you, all! :) This felt so fragmented... but it refused to be changed, and I thought, oh well, Spring is like that. Bits and pieces of light caught in the melting of winter.

Christopher, your poem is lovely :) Sweet memory.

Spring me free, thanks for the Wendell Berry poem. Now where have I seen that poem recently? ;) It is beautiful.

Sidney Trobairitz said...

Oh Rachel, I love your way with imagery and words! It's all watercolor and dreamland.

joker the lurcher said...

wonderful

RachelW said...

Sidney, it's good to see you here again! And you too, Joker. Thank you both. :)