Thursday, March 26, 2009

Harvest Series

vine heavy with fruit
golden orange, streaked with green
waiting fall harvest

wind blown golden curls
arms stretched around pumpkin
glowing autumn sun

tiny hands pulling
wagon laden with pumpkins
kissed in autumn hues

carving the pumpkin
unthinkable to small child
brushes tipped in paint

painted pumpkin sits
along with jack-o-lanterns…
rotting on the porch

November morning
pumpkins smashed in the garden
seeds scattering

silently snow falls
blanketing the garden bed
dreams waiting in darkness

(Harvest Series 1/21/01)



Her voice was robust
a lilting wind chime
She was a continuum
of motion

Seeking out new endeavors
Her passion for life
contagiously intoxicating
a magic potion

She was an enthusiast
adding flavor
to their mundane world
She was the onion