Saturday, April 06, 2013

 

Poems March 2013


(This group is comprised of lunes lx through xl.)

3/1:  "Lune lx"

My fingers pluck brisk
staccato
shivers from your skin.

* * *

3/2:  "Lune lxi"

Your golden circlet
gleams warmly
from your brown ankle.

* * *

3/3:  "Lune lxii"

Your temples are brushed
lightly gray;
there, I kiss our years.

* * *

3/4:  "Lune lxiii"

Disheartened by frost,
too-early
cherry blossoms rust.

* * *

3/5:  "Lune lxiv"

The curve of your arm
on my waist
eases the world's weight.

* * *

3/6:  Lune lxv"

Light reverberates
within ice
March hangs from the eaves.

* * *

3/7:  "Lune lxi"

Brushed, you, mimosa-
sensitive,
curl about my touch.

* * *

3/8:  "Lune lxvii"

The brown of your eyes
draws me down
to your center's heat.

* * *

3/9:  "Lune lxviii"

February leaves
one last gift:
a frozen sparrow.

* * *

3/10:  "Lune lxix"

The scent of lentils
with cumin
and mint fills our home.

* *  *

3/11:  "Lune lxx"

Ripe peach juice trickles
from your chin;
I lick your breasts clean.

* * *

3/12:  "Lune lxxi"

This tussle of bee
and blossom,
this season of seed.

* * *

3/13:  "Lune lxxii"

Filled with flowering
quince, your arms
bring light to this room.

* * *

3/14:  "Lune lxxiii"

The shadows of crows
cannot dim
the hue of the rose.

* * *

3/15:  "Lune lxxiv"

Gold frost on the car:
premature
pollenization.

* * *

3/16:  "Lune lxxv"

Pita, with zaatar,
black coffee,
blood oranges:  Brunch.

* * *

3/17:  Lune lxxvi"

The slow gray of rain
lengthens our
morning's lassitude.

* * *

3/18:  "Lune lxxvii"

Fourteen thousand feet --
out the door --
soaring in free fall --

* * *

3/19:  "Lune lxxviii"

I hollow my heart
to make room
for your ripe spices.

* * *

3/20:  "Lune lxxix"

How eloquently
shrill the crow's
contention with time.

* * *

3/21:  "Lune lxxx"

March-returned swallows
refurbish
homes beneath the bridge.

* * *

3/22:  "Lune lxxxi"

Wisteria's first
racemes fling
bee-nets of fragrance.

* * *

3/23:  "Lune lxxxii"

The slow sway of your
heavy braid
measures out my days.

* * *

3/24:  "Lune lxxxiii"

Just-baked gingerbread
warms the house
and moistens the tongue.

* * *

3/25:  "Lune lxxxiv"

The weight of your breast
in my palm
eases the world's ache.

(NOTE:  Thanks to Lisa 
Toops Smith for this idea.)

* * *

3/26:  "Lune lxxxv"

Frost sparks as the pines
toss shifting
light through their needles.

* * *

3/27:  "Lune lxxxvi"

Catfish gather in
the shallows
to worship the sun.

3/28:  "Lune lxxxvii"

The carpenter bee's
hollow hum
drifts from the eave's edge.

* * *

3/29:  "Lune lxxxviii:  Wangari Maathai, 1940 - 2011"

Forty million trees
shout their green
over Africa.

* * *

3/30:  "Lune lxxxix"

Figs and fontina,
crusty bread
and chianti:  Noon.

* * *

3/31:  "Lune xc"

Fingers intertwined,
we hold each
other, and the world.

* * *
* * *



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