Tag: Time

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

Originally posted 2012-12-28 21:13:24.

In the Evening Hours

In the Evening Hours

Give me these moments
when gardenias ascend the sky
to sparkle
with the stars:
a fragrant scroll blazes
with ancient sonnets
of constellations.

Indigo waters are silver
with moonlight —
I tell you a secret:
my heart harbors many cotyledons
that bud at midnight,
but the purple garden
I must walk
alone.

by D. G. V. © 2012

*** Photograph: Tetonic Moonshine by Jack Sparrow

Originally posted 2012-05-06 01:00:17.

November the Penultimate


November the Penultimate

Never was a month so motley in its days:
November, penultimate month
of a year that frames the seasons,
when leaves in early days
turn to brightest garnet,
blazing topaz,
illuminated gold —

the latter days arrive
with the fire of the winds,
and the burning leaves take the plunge
from infernal towers of the branches
to the burial grounds of a gun-
metal, brumal earth —

November, November,
calves ache from the marathon,
hearts pound the door
to another December

when holly berries huddle upon the petals
of the soft-spoken snow,
and the fallen leaves breathe again
at the sound of the carols of the children,
the children rejoicing.

D. G. Vachal © 2013

Photography Credit: November’s Decline by Bucaneve

“Summer Interlude”

Perseids Meteor Shower by JP Danko pic 2

Ivy and honeysuckle climb
forbidden picket fences,
alabaster butterflies alight
upon the foxgloves,
lavender fields are fragrant
in the silver glow
of summer twilight —

I watch the seasons dance
upon your face,
feel the temperate breezes
heal
our winter-charred arms —

youth returns
if only for a fleeting moment
when amethyst and beryl,
topaz and peridot
explode
against the sapphire sky
of your smiling eyes —

I catch
diamonds and meteors
into the willow basket
of my daily bread.

D. G. Vachal © 2016

 

*** Photography Credit: Perseids Meteor by J.P. Danko