Season of Warmth
Entrapped—
the coldness slumbers
behind the gates of brass,
and the breath of my nostrils
kindles
the summer air —
my heart ignites into bonfires
upon the saffron
grains of sand,
my flesh is flush with the radiant
crimson of the berries —
the season of warmth
has come.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
** image by Wikimedia Commons
Pear tree blossoms
plentiful
as the stars,
packed into constellations
individual as the eye,
purity of milk and diamonds,
whitecaps of oceans
awaken
into another dream,
lost moments found,
forgotten tales
retold
of skeletal branches
putting on fat and flesh,
garbed in gowns of organza,
taffeta and voile,
of golden green,
magenta’s pink,
and crimson of the maples,
the stars
descend from the heavens,
dip into the tin paint
gallons of the rainbow,
morph into manifold
forms of delight,
crayola of corollas
dazzle
upon the vibrant grass.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
The Edge of Bloom
Almost, at this moment:
no matter how feeble the light
upon the trees,
despite this night benumbed,
there are buds that tiptoe
at the pinnacle of jagged cliffs,
careening
at the edge
of bloom —
this miracle,
this dance of beauty
cannot be halted,
cannot be restrained.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
*** Image by Wikimedia Commons
The Sound of Snow
Lace and flannel fall
on February ground,
like flocks of woolen lambs
huddled
upon the leafless hills—
Tell me,
can you hear the sound of snow,
catch the tranquil meekness
quite unlike
the clamor of rain
or the tumult of sleet,
horse hoofs that trample
the cobblestones —
garments with diamonds
descend,
clothe the naked branches,
there are no echoes
from their voiceless song,
no footsteps
to their elegant
dance.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
*** Photography: Winter Trees by T. Frarug
lilies, sparrows and grass 
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