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
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
How Could You Ever Love Me
How could you ever love me
now
after so many winters past,
carved rivulets form
upon my face,
winter cold tunnels
furrow
nettled branches
upon my lips —
now
when my arms and legs
are krummholz,
tree branches
disfigured by cruel
north winds —
what ever do you see
in my tired eyes
the way one tenderly beholds
a newborn eaglet
breaking from its shell
expectant
for its maiden flight —
do you see beyond the farthest
ebony-ice mountains,
the mystery of the uttermost
remote white stars,
the silent moon,
disregard
the momentary sparkle
of the here and now —
how could you ever love me
bone and marrow,
petal and sepal,
root and river.
D. G. Vachal © 2025
Image by Susan-lu4esm@pixabay
1
flock of geese in flight
black petals against the sky
can you hear their call
on a sunset in winter
discordant harmonicas
2
trees in winter’s sun
cast long afternoon shadows
snow on their branches
wingéd angels garbed in white
singing praise in high places
D. G. Vachal © 2025
Images by Hans Benn @pixabay; Fietzfotos@pixabay
Could I Have Loved You More
could I have loved you more
at moments
when my heart
refrained from speaking —
would I at springtime sing
with tulips and apple blossoms
when as for love
there are no words?
silent was I in summer
amidst the warbled
music of bluebirds,
silent still
when peonies bloomed
scarlet
upon the velvet grass —
in autumn splendor
could I have loved you more
standing there
adorned in sunset gold and amethyst,
my muted syllables
would be stifled
by the melody
of violins and woodwinds —
when winter ivory feathers
clothe the swaying birch branches
would there be words of colors
to paint a love
more than a heart
can hold?
D. G. Vachal © 2024
Image by Alain Audet @pixabay
lilies, sparrows and grass 
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