Month: February 2025

End of February

Aspen trees of rural Toten by Balke, Norway, in January 2025.

End of February

delicate brush strokes,
embroidery of deer
mouse tracks,
red fox paw prints
melt in the snow —

music
in the white silence,
aspen trees
trembling in the wind
put on flesh and sinew —

long have I shivered
in the cold,
long have I huddled
by the fire —

I only know
the long-awaited promise
draws near.






D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Oyvind Holmstad @ Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pilegrimskulturlandskap_21.jpg

How Could You Ever Love Me

How Could You Ever Love Me

How could you ever love me
now
after so many winters past,
carved rivulets form
upon my face,
winter cold tunnels
furrow
nettled branches
upon my lips —

now
when my arms and legs
are krummholz,
tree branches
disfigured by cruel
north winds —

what ever do you see
in my tired eyes
the way one tenderly beholds
a newborn eaglet
breaking from its shell
expectant
for its maiden flight —

do you see beyond the farthest
ebony-ice mountains,
the mystery of the uttermost
remote white stars,
the silent moon,
disregard
the momentary sparkle
of the here and now —

how could you ever love me
bone and marrow,
petal and sepal,
root and river.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Susan-lu4esm@pixabay

Love Haiku 28:30

Love Haiku 28:30

28

our love a sculpture
secluded in a garden
under ancient stars

29

time peels the casing
of our long-forgotten dreams
my heart holds them still

30

a remembered kiss
glows as a flame in the sky
embers at twilight

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Tante Tati @pixabay