“The Sound of Snow”


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

“Porcelain Morning”


Porcelain Morning

Kinder still the porcelain morning:
kaolin clay
baked in the kiln of the evening
sun,   cleansed
of the dross of darkness,
translucent resonance,
impermeable
white.

Pink peonies await
and the glossy leaves —
choose your colors,
paint
with care.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** image by TTor

Last Days of December


Last Days of December

Time to be       tranquil now
no longer the consonant     prattle of leaves
in tussle with vowels         of the wind,
whatever must fall
has
fallen
to the brumal ground,
flower by flower,
seed by seed.

Colors linger in the sky,
of rose bouquets and tiger lilies,
and the poetry of April crouches
in fetal position
within the uterus of vaporous
snow clouds —

Time to be still.

by D. G. Vachal © 2012

*** Photography by Paolo De Faveri