Chair in hand, I make my way
Down the road, across the sand.
I sit by the water, my back to the sun,
And watch what’s left of the day drift away.
Category Archives: Tuesday Poetry Post
Spring Forward
I put on the coffee and ducked out for the morning mail
A short stroll down a long driveway
Into the world and a brand new day
It is cool and brisk and I, rushing,
Almost missed it.
The birds were first, chirping, flitting through trees
Then shafts of sunlight poked through the clouds.
The air was heavy from last night’s rain,
And small buds appeared on the tips of trees.
It smelled of hope. Continue reading
Birth Day
I have reveled in the reckless abandon of youth
And sung full-throated the song of joy.
I have wept in the wake of terrible loss
And at the sacrifice of selfless women and men
I have walked into the mouth of chaos
And returned with order firmly restored
I have been an arrogant coward, and humbly brave,
And been lucky to find one who loves me.
But I have never felt, in all my days,
Through triumph and failure, both great and small
The wonder and awe that follows these words:
“We are going to have a baby.”
Birth Day by J. Boyce Gleason
Snow Day
It snowed last night and socked us in,
A gentle reminder from the powers above.
We watched it descend out of the darkness
Into the light outside our door.
I venture out into the dawn,
Wisps of breath curling in the air.
My boots christen the new fallen snow
As I walk into the quiet of the day
Limbs of white lance through trees above
While gusts make snow devils dance below
Deep drifts blur the boundaries of our
Yards, and sidewalks, and the road to town.
As neighbors, we’ll scrape them clean,
Dispelling the peace to resurrect careful lines.
We’ll laugh at the effort and shake each other hands
Our routine restored. Soon, but not now.
Now, I stand in the quiet – alone in the day
Wondering at the calm I find.
It snowed last night and socked us in,
A gentle reminder from the powers above.
Snow Day – By J. Boyce Gleason
Autumn Song
Rooted and ringed,
I face the wind
With gnarled limbs and knots
Aching.
The white of winter comes
Leaden with demise and
Beauty so cruel it is
Careless.
Such an odd thing
The inability to move
When all around me
Beckons.
To begin again, to believe again
In the sun and distant spring.
A useless dream,
And yet…
It rises in me
Hot against the air so cold
Stretching for the sun’s
Embrace.
Autumn Song by J. Boyce Gleason