Love’s Return
thaw—
chameleon-clad hylas
swarm the moss-green ponds
and buds of water lilies
arise from stalks
among the mottled pads—
I thought you were gone,
buried under hills of snow—
now you return
in the low hum of bees,
the soft whisper
of butterfly wings
I feel you near
in the warmth—
yet I somehow know
you have always been
with me in the cold.
— D. G. Vachal 2026
Image: Seerosen (1915) by Claude Monet
Almost April — there is a moment just before spring fully arrives,
when nothing seems to have changed,
and yet, everything has already begun.
Almost April
when crocuses,
aconites
speckle colors
on frigid earth,
and buried bulbs unfurl
their green fingers —
Somewhere
a cold cauldron sits
atop a flame,
warmth simmers:
imperceptible
as approaching dawn.
Almost morning:
when softest tones tiptoe
through purple darkness,
and wakening lark arises
in radiant song,
ruptures
daybreak deafness.
Almost laughter
— D. G. Vachal
This poem is from my collection
The Turning of Light
a book that follows the quiet unfolding
of the seasons within and around us.
If you’d like to explore the full collection:
The Turning of Light
Image (public domain): William J. Forsyth (American, 1854–1935), Crocuses, oil on canvas.
The cover of my second poetry book collection, The Turning of Light, features Claude Monet’s luminous painting, Woman With a Parasol, Facing Left (1886), one of the most beloved images of the Impressionist movement.
In the painting, Monet captured more than a woman standing in a field. He captured a moment of living light — clouds drifting across the sky, wind moving through tall grass, and sunlight shifting across the landscape.
Nothing in the scene is still. Light moves, the sky changes, and the moment itself seems to pass even as we look at it.
That quiet transformation of light lies close to the spirit of the poems in The Turning of Light, which follow the turning of the seasons and the subtle ways time reshapes memory, love, and the inner life.
The Turning of Light can be found on Amazon in Kindle, paperback, and hardcover versions.
Where Branches Are Bare
Where branches are bare
snow comes down
and where ruby leaves have left
stars alight
upon alabaster boughs.
D. G. Vachal ©2026
Image by Manuel H. @pixabay
Among the Jasmine Blossoms
a key opens
my father’s filing cabinet
locked
for so long —
the second drawer
overflows with my letters:
stamped envelopes
squiggly pen strokes
from when I was a child,
a teenager,
a young woman,
a mother —
every letter quietly kept
as a jewel
when they came to him
from far away —
now that I am near
I hear his laughter
while I walk in the garden
among the jasmine blossoms.
D. G. Vachal ©2026
Image Attribution: Mokkie, CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
lilies, sparrows and grass 
You must be logged in to post a comment.