The Warmth of Scarlet Oceans
Let the gelid evening thaw
in the warmth of scarlet oceans
fathomless
beneath my skin,
for I hold in my tiny hands
a chalice
of burgundy wine,
and the spicéd fragrance of roses
coalesces
with the golden tallow of candles
effulgent
in their stalwart flames —
I am not afraid
of the cold.
by D. G. Vachal © 2013
Image: Wikimedia Commons
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
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
lilies, sparrows and grass 
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