Prelude to Spring.........

It’s a stirring within dead stillness
Silence without a name
Evoking an urgent longing
To press it from whence it came
An ambience of expectation
Hovering in the brush
Beneath still-life submission
I sense a deeper push
As waters burst the barriers
Of winter's frozen shell
The rush of silver laughter
Now tunes the murmuring dell
A quickening of pulses
Deep within the earth
A stirring of the senses
An imminent re-birth
The harbor of hope’s promise
Cradled in bud and limb
A deep and soundless wakening
Prelude to nature’s hymn


Janet~

I did go on a trek yesterday afternoon.
The grayness did not hold its usual biting chill.
There’s not enough snow left to ski on the fields so
I walked, feeling like an unwanted intruder
Breaking the wind-swept stillness……..

Quiet.......

The lee is dark and silent now
Even the wind has ceased to blow
The shadows fade into the deep
And all the children are asleep
The quiet reaches to the star
Darling, I wonder where you are………..

Is it quiet where you are too?
Is the sky purple or blue?
Is the silence dark and deep?
I wonder if you are asleep
I pause but there is no reply
Save for the moon up in the sky


J~

I sat on the deck tonight
with a cup of coffee,
the silence broken by
the howl of the dog next door
calling for his owner who is......
no more.

A Letter

Darling, if I should write you a letter
What is it that I would tell?
Would I speak of such wee trifles as weather?
And ask ‘have you been well?’
Or would I commit to this humble parchment
The things I should like to say
Darling, if I would write you a letter
Would you keep it or throw it away

Darling, if I would write you a letter
Would you bother to read it at all?
Or would you reply that you like it better
When I pick up the phone and call
Darling does the smell of ink and paper
Drive you a little crazy too?
And should I decide to write a letter
Would you mind if I wrote it for you?

Janet~

In this electronic age do we still write letters?
A hand-written letter cannot be deleted.
It can last for generations.
I came across such a letter one day when I was putting some things away.
It was a letter to my grandma from her sister. PRICELESS!!!!!

Is This Really It?

Am I a proprietor or slave?
The toil of both lead to the grave
Do they not?
And is there any merit then
To strive to do the best I can
With what I’ve got?
Or is it just a choice of means
Until the swaying ever-greens
Weep on my tomb?
The dust of all is equal there
Is there reason still to care?
Is death my doom?
Has any seen the tears I’ve wept?
Or is there any tally kept
Of joys or sorrows?
When the beggar and the king
Rest side by side at evening
With no tomorrows
Will one be of greater worth?
Or is this life upon the earth
A grand illusion?
A little blip upon a screen
An actor in a random scene
Of mass confusion
Is this really all there is?
A journey to vast emptiness
No rhyme or reasons?
From the cradle to the grave
Is this the breadth of all we have?
Four quickened seasons?
How dark then, growing old would be
A hastening of futility
To cold, hard sod
Beyond this life is so much more
Death is but the wondrous door
That leads to God……….

Janet~

I’m so glad there is One
Who sees each step I take
My little successes
And every mistake
He sees my smile
Counts each tear that I cry
Thus by the grace
Of God, go I

Other People's 'Ordinaries'

She sighs as she talks about her crazy week
At the office on the sixth floor
Where her window faces the harbor-front
And she's got her name on the door
She keeps saying she would quit if she could
I stare with envy at her perfect manicure
My nails bear the marks of dish-water and splitting wood
The brief-case she carries and the bag on her shoulder
Amplifies my domesticity; I suddenly feel much older
As I picture her day through the eyes of romance
I know I would not trade if given the chance
Yet, I can’t help but wonder how it would be
To be in by seven and done at three
To sport name-brand bags instead of tea-towels on my arm
But she looks at me as if my life were a charm
Sandwiches, I could make them in my sleep
I’ve grown quite accustomed to my laundry heap
Every morning at eight-o-clock
I wave as the bus pulls away from the walk
Wondering how old my youngest child will be
Before she’s ‘too old’ to wave to me
'House-wife'she says, visualizing a painting in the shade
A life of cookies and lemonade
And maybe it is, here and there
A smile, a kiss, a tear and a prayer
Her polished appearance makes me seem quite dull
She says she's decided to enroll
In a couple new classes and maybe then
She can work her way out of the craziness she's in
My mental check-list of what needs to be done
I suddenly decide is not worth mentioning
With a click of her heels she hurries away……
‘I have no idea how she feels’ I hear myself say…..
H-m-m-m… I think I’ll go outside, hike to the woods for a while
The housework can wait……I hum……I smile

Janet~

Why do we tend to perceive other people’s ‘ordinaries’
With a degree of something akin to romance………
Enjoy the ‘ordinary’ you’re in
Kick up your feet AND DANCE!!!!

Intangible You.........

I only want a piece of you
To touch between your words
I cannot clasp within my hands
Some sentiment I’ve heard
I cannot brush my fingertips
Across the silent air
Or hold between my trembling lips
The echo of your prayer

I want a piece of you to quench
The sorrow in my hunger
Between my fists I cannot clench
The echo of last summer
I cannot reach to touch the wind
Or blue skies up above me
Tell me, is there anything
At all that you can give me?

I only want a piece of you
But that defies all reason
I cannot hold the color blue
The softness of your breathing
And just a little piece of you
Could never satisfy me
I realize, the whole of you
Is wrapped up deep inside me

Janet~

The Face in the Mirror....

You do not say one thing but mean another
There is no mystery in you I need to discover
I know more than I really care to
I know the undisguised truth about you
Your desires, your regrets, your thrills
I’ve beheld first-hand your clash of wills

Skin forms lips, cheeks, a nose
My eye-lids, they open, they close
But skin is merely a cover of flesh
The face in the mirror has no secrets
That I have not been privy to
Oh, yes, I know all about you….

……..of what makes you laugh, or weep
Of thoughts you caress before you sleep
I know what makes your pulses race
I know the person behind that face
I view it with startling clarity
I know that face; it represents me

Janet~

The Other Dream.....

You were there
Virility-charged air
Pulsed, throbbed, trembled

But like low-lying mist
Dissolves when kissed
Awakening stole the visual

J~