Gogyohka for a muse

the darkest star
is the one that looks inwards
blazing at the core
the crucible of all things
vitrified and dazzling

gogyohka for fallen petals

crisp frost
in the morning shadows
plum petals
scattered like snow
as spring swells

gogyohka for justice

For Frank Tassone’s challenge.

I watch the trumps leave for pastures new
and think justice would be better served
If to cross the White House lawn
she were to wear flat clumpy shoes
and he the six inch stiletto heels.

Mist

cloud becomes ground mist
the serpent uncoiling
detached from river stream’s silver scales
eating the green world
swallowing the sun

wild

wild night to be out
blustering warm
and on the hill
the eerie cry of a vixen
carried in the mouth of the wind

gogyohka for flooded ditches

beneath this leaden sky
the water in the ditch
running
forgets to shine
and slides as dull as

Changes

 

a day of early sun
and from a distant tree
the thrush’s song
and everywhere the singing water
running running running

ripple song from bird throat
and ripple sun on water
and grass waving
from silver ditch depths
that yesterday were crisp with frost

gogyohka for reeds

Inspired by the beautiful photography of this post on Red’s Kingdom blog.

the oneness of the pattern
repetition of design
that sings and weaves
the furred and feathered pelt
of the water

Gogyohka for too short days

these days of late autumn
the moon never leaves the sky
not even the blinding blue
crisp with cold and sun-swollen
holds back her voyage

Last morning of the lighter half of the year

green and blue
through the mist
merging ephemera
with tree pillars
holding up the sky