“After Winter”

Crocus Playtime - Lord V@flickr
Melted snow and now
relentless the waterfalls
flood-level ponds
drown the fragrance
of lotus white flowers —

February, you were cruel
savage winds battered homesteads
of burning hearths,
I treasure the fire
of remembered
warm seasons —

Weeping through March
dew-tears moisten earth’s
winter-hard soil, awaken
emerald and amethyst
in blades of grass
and crocus petals —

April hours come
with dove-feather showers,
lenient winds,
promise the arrival of warmer
seasons once again.

by D. G. Vachal © 2016

*** Photography by LordV@Flickr

“Petals Under Moonlight”

Petals under moonlight,
on a night when the month of May
is ending:
the owls play their piccolos
upon the branches,
the crickets, their castanets
on the watery grass —

in the muted colors of the petals,
foliage and sepals,
beneath the cloak of temporal

the greening of things
blazes across the fields of this fertile
drenched in the early rain,
warmed by the beams of the morning

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

Photo Credit: Richard Thripp

“Spring Percolates”

Pear tree blossoms
as the stars,
packed into constellations
individual as the eye,
purity of milk and diamonds,
whitecaps of oceans

into another dream,
lost moments found,
forgotten tales
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
upon the vibrant grass.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

“Treasures in the Morning”

Anita Martinz @ Wikimedia Commons

Cold tentacles
hold on
to burgeoning branches
beneath the April sun:
yellow butterflies alight
upon celadon lapels
of  petal-packed corollas —

Skies are cyan, crystal-clear,
embossed with goose
down pillows
in alabaster dreams —

There are treasures in the morning,
this platinum morning:
emerald and gold
over infantile leaves
of oak and elm —
ruby and sapphire,
topaz, turquoise and amethyst
in the tranquil blooming
of the promised flowers.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Photograph by Anita Martinz @ Wikimedia Commons

“Almost April”

… back from my travels… I turn around and once again, it’s Almost April

Almost April:
when crocuses,
speckle colors
on frigid earth,
and buried bulbs unfurl
their green fingers —

a cold cauldron sits
atop a flame,
warmth simmers:
as approaching dawn.

Almost morning:
when softest tones tiptoe
through purple darkness,
and wakening lark arises
in radiant song,
daybreak deafness.

Almost laughter.  

by D. G. Vachal © 2012