Regimes

seed-husk

The old year clings to its fragile stalk,

tenacious, reluctant.

In its husk hang dreams and memories,

broken resolutions,

minutes and hours dried to a crisp.

The dawn of the new year shines pale,

impotent in its infancy,

tiny arms flung to the heavens.

Uncertain, each regards the other; one

with suspicion and the weight of wisdom,

the other with wonder, innocent of pain or pleasure.

The old bows in silence,

nods,

breaks,

falls to the rights of the year to come.

As it falls,

it scatters seeds

and the sunlight

notes where they land.

 

Surprise

frosty-fence

frost feeds on fear

freezes future fortunes

dishes up death on a silver platter

wouldn’t it be shocked to know

when we are flash-frozen

we grow glorious?

Grip of Gold

foggy-grasses

Golden are her tawny tresses,

Golden are her thoughts of late;

Gold her dreams of greener dresses –

Dipped in gold, her dreams await

Days of golden-sunshined splendour,

Tucked neath golden afternoons;

Patient, she will guard her golden

Songs as hope sings gilded tunes.

Inside His Hand

dugout-reflection

When what my eyes can see is not reality,

When beautiful appears as Judas’ kiss;

When up turns out to sink like stones of gravity,

And all is chaos, I remember this –

No matter the confusion all around me,

No matter how things look from where I stand,

The God who reigns above, both pure and Holy,

Holds every circumstance inside His hand.