April’s Sapling in August

April’s Sapling in August

April’s sapling
arising from the fragrance
of damp spring earth,
tiny buds unfurl like infant fingers,
release the first soft leaves,
chartreuse
as songbirds return,
perch
upon scrawny shoulders —

lengthening days drift with tides,
clouds of egrets in flight,
dawn dewdrops
ephemeral
upon blades of grass —

quickly comes August:
the sapling’s girth thickens,
networks of roots proliferate,
dig deep
like earthworms into warm soil,
arms broaden from twigs to branches
as thrushes thread through the canopy,
warble with the rustle of emerald leaves,
golden harp melodies
in the cooling breezes.


D. G. Vachal © 2025



Image by Jonathan Billinger @Wikimedia Commons

The Fire of Your Fingertips

The Fire of Your Fingertips

I will not take this warmth for granted
as I behold the fire
of your fingertips,
woodwinds of your voice
carried by soft breezes —

tomorrow holds a sheet of white:
leafless branches
in the wintry blizzard winds,
little do I know
if you will be beside me still —

I will not take this warmth for granted
as I behold the fire
of your fingertips.

D. G. Vachal © 2025



Image by Stux@pixabay

Colors of Summer

Colors of Summer

My love, summer colors
bloom with the glow we have known
through the years
beside you I stand
bone of your bones,
flesh of your flesh
as in the wondrous days of Eden —

Take me to the dance
of asters and anemones
as we waltz with the westerly wind,
warble with song sparrows,
soar with the laughter of seagulls
above iridescent sand dunes
of northeastern shores —

these very moments

while the grass teems with greenness,
imperceptibly
the August warmth turns celadon
clusters of grapes
into purple,
ripe for wine harvest.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Jplenio@Pixabay

Love Haiku 43:45

Love Haiku 43:45

43

Blazing white sunlight
tanned feet stroll the golden sands
your strong arms, my warmth

44

palm fronds dance and sway
zephyrs and soft gentle rain
your face, my shelter

45

sunset bids farewell
peach and pink turn indigo
your eyes, my starlight

D. G. Vachal © 2025


Image by PhillipCSpence@pixabay

Nature’s Chase

Nature’s Chase

In the ivory warmth of summer
while frogs croak among the lily pads
and rustling leaves make harp-like music,
two squirrels scamper in a sprint
one behind the other:

scurrying sounds, a tangled mass of fur,
a frenzied steeple chase
across freshly mown grass,
then up the leaf-laden tree branches
and down again,
vanish into the swampy woods —

In the utmost heat of summer’s day
while orange-winged cicadas buzz and whine
and nikko blue hydrangeas droop from drought,
two swallows break forth in ecstatic flight
one behind the other:

chirps and gurgles, a tangled mass of feathers,
ferris wheels in the air
as they traverse gabled roofs,
alight leaf-laden tree branches
and up again,
vanish into the azure sky —

Have you witnessed nature’s chase?

There is a time
for playful pursuit,
a time
for slowing down,
to gaze into each other’s eyes,
walk hand in hand,
vanish
into the emerald forest.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Flo222 @pixabay