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At your touch


at your touch on this cold night
I lean into your hair
which smells of moons and stars
gratefully inhaling the scent
that makes me tipsy
as a hummingbird
too full of nectar
 
the faces of our children
not yet born
will glow with wonder
when we tell this story
thirty years from now
and they will tell it to their children
speaking in hushed voices:
 
how a farmer loved his wife
through sixty years of drought and plenty
while suns and stars and planets
kept whirling round the fields
and wistful neighbors spoke with reverence
of the fertile pair

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
More Sunday’s Whirligig #144
   
More Poetry Pantry #386 at Poets United

Spring and Other Things

 photo 2d184dc9-9956-4dd9-be86-3539bc825cea_zpsdzqlpexr.jpg
 
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
in a plain black dress
she welcomes spring to the hills—
the soldier’s widow
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
dreaming of springs past
when she walked with her father
through the plum orchard
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
a dazzling array
of fruits in the marketplace—
boy filches a plum
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
First full week of spring—
they speak only of the light
drenching the meadow.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
an open doorway—
throwing away all constraints
to cross the threshold
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
An open window—
this morning the mockingbirds
are making her sad.
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
after spring’s first rain
memories of her childhood
sprouting fresh and green
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
blocking out the sobs
of the child who’s lost her coins
at the carnival
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
third full week of spring—
the menace of a sleet storm
freezing lilac buds

 
© 2016 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #300
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #57

Timeless Tales

 photo dd013e39-e952-4747-8d1a-7f9f17e46b54_zpsrd5qtasi.jpg
 
 


~~ 1 ~~
 
feeble old woman
attempting to bathe herself—
soap slips from her hand
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
finding a table
where we can sip tea and think
about the next steps
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
in his little shop
the sharpener of razors
stropping the last one
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
outside her window
the tinkling of bronze wind chimes
as darkness descends
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
bowls on the table—
in the azure one a storm
brewing in the broth
 
~~ 6 ~~
 
a wicker hamper
filled with sweet and sour dumplings—
lovers’ picnic feast
 
~~ 7 ~~
 
humming to himself
as he reaches for the hose—
thirsty gardener
 
~~ 8 ~~
 
longing to partake
of sweet and juicy gossip—
the famine women
 
~~ 9 ~~
 
a bowl of olives
alarming the residents
of the nursing home
 
~~ 10 ~~
 
A bag of poems—
the apple seller hides it
behind the last bin.
 
~~ 11 ~~
 
I share this secret
with you and with the north wind—
autumn is coming.
 
~~ 12 ~~
 
An almond wafer—
if it could speak my language,
I would not eat it.

 
© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
More Poetry Pantry #256
 
More Sunday’s Whirligig #11

If

Dead Indigo Bush photo deadindigobush_zps27ada9ce.jpg
Indigo Bush (Psorothamnus fremontii), Sonoran Desert, Southern Arizona
 


If the branch could speak,
it might become a channel
to release new truths.

 
Text and photo © 2014 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
More Shadow Shot Sunday 2
 
More Straight Out of the Camera Sunday
 
More The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 158: “Branch, Speak, Become, Channel, Release”