Category: Seasons

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

The Warmth of Summer Rain

featured in my poetry book “Where Love Dwells”, one of my favorite poems.

The Warmth of Summer Rain

I walk
barefoot
upon the springtime grass,
moss and lichen,
I am

flesh and bone
upon the cobblestones,
smoldering coals
upon melting snow,
I await

the warmth of summer rain
flowing
into ebony bowls of loam
where barks of lilacs come to rest
from their blooming,
they smile
at the dance of lilies —

I have traveled the continents
of the years,
countries of the seasons
under the opiate canopy
of space and time —

The years tell stories
upon the lecterns
of my face,
still
I am

younger than my days,
I carry the heart of a little child,
my tiny feet frolic
in the white linen warmth
of  summer rain.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013, 2025

*** Image by Chulmin1700@pixabay

April

April

Here you come once again
with your delicate rains:
petals break forth like the rainbow
while scarlet-breasted robins
alight
upon the thickening carpet
of emerald grass —

You perplex me so:
warm and cold,
endearing and aloof,
the way long-forgotten loves
drove me to the very edge
of madness —

O April,
enshroud me in the intimacy
of your mysteries,
then will I comprehend the reason
for the ethereal blossoms
fragrant
in the month of May.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Donna McCl @Unsplash

Momentary Blooms

Momentary Blooms

Are there memories
senseless
to logical sentiments,
written off as never-
happenstance hypotheses
by mountain goat-bearded
wise sages —

why then
do rainbow whirlwinds
hover over peripheries
of my befuddled mind,
radiate
in the recessive
penumbra
of my tranquil heart —

thoughts of loves
long forgotten
momentarily bloom
like purple
crocus petals
on the frigid soil
of weather-beaten
March gardens —

why then
do they disappear
in April.

D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Couleur @Pixabay

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