Category: Nature

Dandelion Canopies

You’ll find her beneath
the dandelion canopy, 
refueling her yellow,
feeding her sunny,
nectar for her sappy,
when the sun is setting,

the crazy nature girl
bending, squatting,
making magic
out of “nothing.” 
Witnesses stop asking
what she’s doing.

Make fun of her 
but don’t interrupt
the wildflower child 
when she’s crouched,
hair dangling down 
in the dirt,
as roots reach up
to genially greet her. 

Never mind her 
echo to the birds
or her silly grin 
as she whispers
to unseen
chimerical creatures.

You’ll find her beneath 
the dandelion canopy
filling her heart’s fancy
with macro memories. 

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Softening

Sometimes, I
prefer the blur,
the softness,
of out of focus,
where it all becomes
muted and fuses
with the natural horizon,
and even my femininity,
graceful and soft-spoken,
has a voice among the hushes,
my lyrics freed but the language
not audible or of this world,
for it is my soul who recognizes
this celestial light befalling before
the sun bids us adieu, never
resting, only sharing itself with
others too, as this speck of a
planet shifts, and upon
this ray, I lay this kiss
to be sweetly
delivered
to you.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Symbols in the Sand

A detour, soulful tugging,
I find myself impulsively
knelt again on the white sands
before the altar at an end
of the earth,
surf symphony
rising predictably
to greet me,
but I casually look about
for the signs He wanted me
to again come ’round…
between my toes
ancient mountains ground
to grains,
quartz granules,
sugar-soft,
appropriate backdrop
for the hieroglyph
written for me:
it freezes me.

So easily,
I succumb
to the enchantment
of silence,
save for those waves
and occasional sea birds
with personal messages calling.
(It always baffles me
how I can so often have
this parcel of paradise
to myself…)
I stay a long, unhurried while
just trying to feel
what this enigmatic swirl
of sea oat in the sand
is all about…
Something about curves
is always so sensuous,
aesthetically strokes
my soul…
I don’t need a translation;
in fact, I prefer
this sacredly-carved symbol.
I make it my own
and add it to my collection
of clues
leading me leisurely
home.
It is the journey
after all, and I have nowhere else
to go.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Glass Portals

If I have to have walls,
give me windows
big and bright
where shadows can dance for hours
with the light,
windows that open
wide
to invite the breezes
inside.
In all mental-health seasons, 
I so easily slip away
for days,
lose myself 
in those sunny sills
and rainy panes, 
faraway thoughts
that need not be
sorted nor restrained;
even my muses need
a holiday. 
The spaces inside
my dwelling fade
in comparison 
to the glass
and screens I need
for my soul 
to not suffocate.
If I have to have walls, 
give me windows
through which to endlessly 
escape.

Morning Kiss

The sea oats
have grown tall;
I let them
skim my palm, 

feel the tickles
gifted from heaven
as the sea’s soul 
is orchestra lifted 

above the tides
of this earth
to scoop me up
with open arms
into the surf.

I offer all I’ve brought
to sacrifice to God,

releasing the heavy,
releasing the pain, 
hoping the ghosts 
will choose escape

as I make it more
uncomfortable 
to haunt these
inner spaces

tarnished, turning gold
from the light
of love
joining the soul’s. 

My feet sink
in the warm silk
as my heart, 
with you inside,
even more 
fills. 

Buoyant become
the weights
as the shackles and chains
give way
to become part
of the dark, watery
grave.

Today, I take
back my life.
Today the curse,
I unwind.

Wet feet,
sand clinging,
I walk back
and through my fingers,

the sea oats feel
the difference

as the sun 
awakens,
rises to kiss
me so gently 
once

again…. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

The Light in My Reflections

Amongst the backdrop
of artificial light,
even in the pretty art
the water makes of it,
reflections at night,

my lens, guided by
the lighthouse of my soul
seeks the single detail
to anchor, to hold,

for only in the hushed detail
can I find my story,
mine alone,
these silent allegories,

and when the lyrics
feather float
to the page,
I hope
my heart’s songs
resonate,

for really we are all
the same
as the stalk of grain swaying
before the moonlit bay.

Poem and last night’s images ©LauraDenise