Leaf in the Web

Seasons are part
of Divine’s design;
we are not meant, however,
to become
ensnared in any particular
one.

Break free and fall
upon the breeze.
It’s time to see
what’s next to come.

Poem and image @bylauradenise

Meanderings

In the absence of trail markers,
I find they were always there;
He’s seen where I’m headed
and steers me with care.

An arrow in morning-glory gold
and silhouetted wings
once again lead me
solo into the sunrise
in my homebound
meanderings…

His Ray

Dawn gently stirs
to find her,
single wildflower.

In his softest warmth
extended,
she slowly rises,
highlighted,

and across the shadow line
sends her cheer
to the fallen,

who, in turn,
becomes one
with the earth.

“Right behind you,”
she comfortingly whispers,

as a sea bird
breaks the ray,
or was it Sun
blinking his tear
away?

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Oasis

When drowning in the desert,
I make my own oasis
to anchor my hope upon
’til tame becomes the tempest.

I know the weather patterns,
just not when the wells will dry,
but when they do, I’ll resurrect my heart
from its protected burial site.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Seasons

Seasons about,
seasons within,
seasons of life,
seasons begin.

All seasons end.

This brings about what pleases
and that which disappoints,
that which shatters
and that which fills with joy,

but who are we to judge
what’s in our best interest
from our non-omniscient,
limited perspective?

Who is the narrator?
Who is the character?
Who is the author?
Who will read it

in the end?

Dusty cover,
spring breeze,
dust to dust,
seasons never cease.

I resist the gales of change
even though I’ve grown wings;
sometimes our comfy cocoons
are stirred on purpose
by the leaf.

Premature nostalgia
begins to take hold;
I try to focus on the excitement
of what He has in store.

Seasons never cease.
“Nothing gold can stay,”
but it returns so loyally,
and in its absence regrows

faith.

I will harvest the gold
in the center
as the petals unfurl,
life within life…
keeping or returning to
the purity and light,

I believe,

is the eternal goal.

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Some Days

Full moon
still hides
parts of itself
from view.

Wildflowers
don’t always feel
like opening
up to bloom.

Not all
birdsongs
can be
cheerful tunes.

Stars may not
get to every
wish they accrue.

Some days
the water
vapor is unable
to make itself
cloud-plumes.

Seasons
of the heart
insist a sunny poet
take a respite
in the shade,

but earth shifts
and turns
and always brings
another new day.

Silent Leaps

They still dance for me
in winter
upon autumn’s
painted, fading
stage:
white petal ballet,

paralleling
my silent leaps
and stubborn faith
in dreams.

The axis piercing
my soul
slows,
and for a moment
I believe

I can pirouette right off
and finally become
free.

The Petals I’ve Known

It’s been sunny and seventies, and the seasons
have not so much been confused
as they have been seemingly
just leisurely mingling, amused,
some stalling, some joyfully letting go;
nothing in the South rushes though.

Like melting cubes of ice in tea,
we take it sweet and slow down here.
It tickles me pink to have the mix
sprinkling personal messages so clear.

Today started differently,
gray with a bit of nip in the air.
Certain trees partaking in autumn
are almost now bare,
covering the patio in a bland
blanket over stone,
which made the flowers
I did not grow
even more the focal point
of my windowed soul.

I smiled for how they have become
so deeply rooted in my journey.
Marking my heart’s pages,
so many petals and leaves held so dearly,
imprinting with their colors and scents
my most powerful untold stories.

Gold Released

From an ancient pyramid
of faraway dreams,
a river of gold rises,
seeps into the leaves,
feeding the season
to believe.
I lift my heart
again to reach…

Chrysalis

Hibiscus past prime,
creation divine,
chrysalis of love
hatched, released
into the light.
Intricate shell
fossilizes secrets;
sometimes what’s
left behind is all
the epitaph needed.