Decision on a Birdfeeder

image courtesy of publicdomainpictures.net

 

I hesitate in remembrance

as if the fates would choose

a day of gray and leave me there,

as if a blossoming could be had upon

a second visitation to any day.

 

The creamer clouds disperse and swirl

in my extra strong coffee

like memories of things I wanted–

never had, never attained

all those years ago.

 

Stirring the coffee still,

I stare out the kitchen window.

Decide against a bird feeder

filled with black oil sunflower seeds.

I do not want cardinals here.

People say cardinals are spirits

of those you’ve lost come to visit you—

No.  I want no cardinals here.

No spirits of the lost to visit or say hello.

No twittering or chittering away.

No vibrancy of color outside this window.

No.  Not here.  Not in this place.

 

I’d rather this be a spiritless place,

A virgin place, void of spirits, void of touch—

 

At least for a time

 

 

 

Evening Seeking

Image courtesy of thewowstyle.com
Weekend Writing Prompt #188 – Languid | Sammi Cox (wordpress.com)

 

The languid time of evening

Comes in flames,

Searching horizons

In their lazy, twisting way

For truths and hearts.

 

Forever searching

For another flaming heart

To serve as a twin

As if that could be found

In such languid searching

In slowing time

Between sunset and sunrise,

Each a prize of flame,

never finding another flaming heart.

Winter Has No Cheer

Image courtesy of Pinterest.com
Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge—December 8, 2020 | Go Dog Go Café (godoggocafe.com)

As winter whispers

The longing starts

For warmer days

Of a warming spring

Leaking slowly

Into a sweltering summer.

As winter whispers

In pretense of knowing

Warmth and cheer

Of holidays it cannot contain

In its freezing coldness,

We are left untouched

For far too long—

Our souls grow grey

In these winter days

And leap at the hope

Contained in striking colors

Of Winter’s sunsets–

Only to have hope

Bashed, broken, bleeding

Against the frozen Winter

Ground.  As Winter whispers,

Chuckling at our fragile humanity. 

The Earth We Leave

Image courtesy of Dreamtime.com

A world bequeathed to us

In the breaking sounds of softness

Sighs from the weight

Of lost innocence and souls,

Mourning the loss of her lineage of love

In our desire for riches and more,

Grows weary of the heaviness of us.

 

The tonnage of our selfishness

Swirls in her oceans,

Fouls her air,

Tears apart her mantle.

 

In anger,

Her sky weeps,

Her winds whip up her seas–

All to wipe the weight of us

From her face, her body.

 

Thus, the earth we bequeath.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2020/11/07/weekend-writing-prompt-182-bequeath/

Seasons

Image courtesy of rihaij on Pixabay

https://godoggocafe.com/2020/09/01/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-sept-1-2020/

 

Into fall’s hands

Dreams of summer scatter

Chilled to death.

 

Fall strides to winter,

Claiming death of all living

Dreams rolled inward— green.

 

Winter sulks away

Spring green rising from within

Our winter hearts.

 

Spring arouses summer

Dreams awaken from a soul,

Heated imaginings.

 

Into fall’s hands

Summer leaps with all her dreams,

Scattered leaves to air.

A Time of Transition

Image courtesy of Mark Carthy/Shutterstock

https://amanpan.com/2020/08/24/eugis-weekly-prompt-transition-august-24-2020/

 

Sing softly to me

Among the verdant trees

Of our youthful revelry,

Where memory sins

With aging fire,

Lightning to a soul’s dark soil,

Giving fire life within

As your song soothes

An aging heart.