Sunday Sounds

Between Christmases

I aim a smile,

Baring teeth in greeting.

The return is fired

And ricochets around

The company assembled.

This is Christmas after all,

This is what we’ve been waiting for.

Across the walls yet more greetings,

Abrasively scratched cards

From relatives collected,

And seldom or never talked about friends,

And others hhardly ever known or met,

And here for a moment a sense of regret

Loiters with intent to do better.

Newcomers positioned on cushion laden seating

Are plied with traditional warming drink

And here we are ready

For the next thankful interruption from the door.

The procedure is fixed in tradition,

The routine ritual is old and needing updating,

The meaning lost.

Here I have gathered about me

Those who I knew much better

All of a month ago.

For then, between Christmases there dwell

Those I love.

Between Christmases at least

They have the Christmas spirit.

Sun Set Sunday

Sunny Window Sunday

Moonbeam Dreaming, Monday Meaning

The Moonbeam

Into the frozen darkness

A shaft of blue

Fingered the walls

Silently crawled

Soft edged up the bed

Bathed the sleeper in its shroud

Kissed her head

Lingered for a moment or two

Closed her eyes

And ere its silken sheet withdrew

Caught her sigh.

Saturday Sparkers

Fragmentary Friday

Wistly Whispy Wittering Wednesday

Friday's Fragile Phantom Frames

Saturday Swish - A Scurrying Wish!

Saturday Sculptural Structures

Unsung Sunday Song

Battle Plans At Dawn

The birds report in evening song

Rabbits confer in fields

And as the day distills ere long

Descends a blanketing shield.

 

“Calm now, rest” whispers Nature,

“From the ravishes of man,

We’ll begin again tomorrow,

To salvage what we can.”