Having faith

For dverse, another excuse to listen to the new Abba songs.

They said they were stuck in a groove
predictable, kitsch,

those times were past,
like youth, a place of memories.

They said they’d never have it in them,
but they showed us we remain

the children we once were,
and our music never dies

Where skylark trills

For the dverse prompt.

Where skylark trills,

beneath the grass, on bare stone hills,
in sky that soars on swallows’ wings,
there is a beating heart that sings.

Where blackbird sings, the hedges fills,
the stream’s bright source in silver springs,
earth’s pulse, her beating heart still sings.

Streaming

Light ribbon
ancient streams
of lost-star memories.

Down the pane
rain streams—beyond
the world’s a water-blur.

Beneath the poplars
the only sound
stream-babble

They tumble-stream the words
a river flowing
ni queue ni tête

After the fête
littered happiness lies
in streamered joy.

For the dverse prompt.

Was seed

now spreads broad-leafed branches,

unfolds, scented,
in a complex origami
of curl-petaled bloom,

gallops the hillside,
a russet-red leaper,

pads the night paths,
a russet-tailed chancer,

and you,
milky-soft, pink and unfocused,
learning by the moment,
gallop-growing, unfurling beauty,

were once a microscopic
seed.



A quadrille for EJ and the dverse prompt.