The mountainside seems in flames,
Shimmering in red, white and pink:
It is Spring in the mountains here.
My heart leaps wildly to these flames
For my love is like this wild flower fire
As it rises and falls and then flows
A river of passion and hopes.
But, unlike this Spring-only flower,
My heart will flare wildly in flames
As long as I have life left.
Spring is that smell in rain-scented air
A scent of wild roses in the evening breezes
Or violets blushing with their purple love
Daffodils dancing in the wind whorls
The incredibly brilliant green in new leaves
Spring is holding hands crossing the meadow
To listen as the lark sings to his mate
Could Spring be better explained
Than in the sheer joy of a new baby’s laugh
There is also Spring in those ancient eyes
Meeting across the room just any place
Spring is love abloom anywhere you are
How shall I say I love you,
Since every meal we ever ate
Included just a pinch of love?
All cakes and pies were flavored
With just a drop or two of care.
When you placed your arms about me,
All the world seemed so good.
How did something this marvelous happen
To someone as plain of face as me?
All these years my heart was filled
So much with all the love you gave
That it seems almost impossible to me
That the love you gave so freely
Came to me much like an act of faith.
“The tall ship dropped from the sky
To sail across our southern seas
And stood at anchor just offshore.
Soon a smaller boat left the tall ship.
Slowly, as oars rose and fell, it touched land.
The white god stepped out so all-aglow.
His beautiful breastplate shone, like the sun.
The helmet was like the moon above.
Then as the white god stood still,
He drew forth a spear, like lightning,
Touched it to the earth as he murmured
In a strange language a blessing on us—
The emissary of Quetzalcoatl has landed!”
Green as the grass may grow,
Irish hearts grow in rows—
Much greener in love of life
Than any grass plant look-alike.
Love of Irish culture appears
In every land across seas
And spreads joy everywhere.
To be Irish in the flesh
Is to touch where gods dwell.
To be Irish in spirit,
We must be with the gods.
#IrishSpirit #St.Patrick’sDay
The mere act of wading
Through a cool mountain stream
Lifted my spirit across the land.
Then, holding hands with Margaret,
Made my whole body and soul
Respond as if I were a violin.
My hands vibrated
And my heart throbbed.
She felt as soft as a baby’s skin.
I lost control of my inner soul—
Her unconscious quiver of love
Filled me so full of her inner soul.
I could not release her
Until I had kissed her,
Gently and sensuously—
Long enough to fill my inner self.
#LoveandPoetry #LoveandMemory
Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, moonstones,
All treasured stones of mankind
Seemed to dangle from twigs and leaves
As morning sunlight reflected the wealth.
Shafts of white, red, green then yellow
Splintered across the valley floor.
As this caught my eye, my body froze.
I could not move and miss one moment
Of this dazzling winter display.
My tongue silent, my heart leaping
Inscribed the memory
Forever in the data bank of my mind.
#WinterandPoetry #IceCicles #WinterMemory
Though squirrels still scurry for food,
The snowflakes fill all the sky
And blanket all the earth below.
The trees have shed their leaves to sleep
While the flowers have drifted to earth.
Now, as I sit here, quietly sipping tea,
A soft firelight warms every nook.
Nightfall now always comes too soon
Bringing frost to decorate the scene.
A mournful cry echoes from the wild.
While animals huddle together for warmth,
My house is snug from wintry blasts.
The winds may shriek and howl in icy blast.s
I will be sitting in my little old house
Munching walnuts dipped in maple sugar.
Winter is the season in which to relax,
To retreat for a time, to genuflect,
And get ready for the hurly-burly
Of Spring’s furious renewal of life.
#WinterandPoetry #NatureandPoetry
Another New Year’s Eve is almost here.
That’s seventy-nine now—for me.
At eighteen, freshly graduated from high school,
New Year’s Eve was fun.
Now, I am just too tired to shout.
Yet, life has been good to me.
I can’t run a mile or climb trees,
But how well I enjoy the sunsets.
Those old-time tunes being played
Remind me of those good times past.
When New Year’s Eve comes in this year,
No horns, no streamers, no drinks,
Just me and my wife by a warm fire
Watching the young on the “telly”
Having the time of their lives
While we will have a heck of a time
Trying to stay awake till midnight comes.
#NewYear’sEvePoetry #Aging