The little book of poem is dedicated
to my mother, Catherine Guion

Evergreen

Trees
Keeps its green
Throughout the year
Greeting the winter
Without fear
Not dying
Knows not spring
And is
Ever green

Wings

Wings of the butterfly
Beat against the breezes
The butterfly floats
With ease.

Eulogy For An Eagle

His life was impersonal
He was unattached
Except for his claws
Upon a lofty branch

Scheme

Dandelion
Is picked
From the green
Growing in
The scheme
Of green
On green

Tracings

A spider weaves a web
In silence without strife
While I spin my days
Somehow into life

The Moth

My life is short
Because I’m blind
To the light
I, seeking, find.

In Earnest

Dried flowers
Dried tears
All the same
The sun rides
In the morning

Autumn Is

Autumn is…
     children collecting
     hailstones and buckeyes
     in big plastic pails
     that recently housed seashells.

Shelter

Dreams fall away
Like leaves in autumn
I’m naked until spring

Dressed once again
In fantasies of green
I welcome the warm sun
And strange smiles

Duty

A snowflake
Can but dream
Of covering the world
With whiteness
A snowflake falls.

Winter

Alone
A leaf
Shivers in the wind
Stiff with age
And cold
Soundings so very dry
And old

Coverings

Snow is softly
falling
Covering the trees

Dreams are softly
falling
Covering me

We are for the night
Dressed in our white

Tomorrow the day will
melt
Whiteness into trees

Tomorrow the day will
melt
Dreams into me

We are for the night
Dressed in our white

Winter Berries

Black birds cling
To branches of
Winter-naked trees
Blackberries in spring.

White Shadows

Somewhere
A secluded spot
White lilies stand
In stillness
Soaking up the sun
In the evening
Shadows
Of the night

Dreams

Sweet mornings
Of memory
Never came
Scenes
In dreams
Never dreamt
Tears
That flow
When I awake
Mask my sleeping
Moments

The Seasons

“I am fickle!”
Cries the earth.
“I change my lovers
Soon enough!”

Spring

The shudder of a young leaf
As the wind hurries by
And then stillness
Until the next sudden flirt

Evening Hour

Birds…
One at a time
Appear
To wet their wings
In the early evening
Hour
Of spring.

Pigeon

I am the commoner
Of the city streets
Overlooked for birds
Considered more elite

Quiet Beginning

The fog is lazy
In the air
Hovering everywhere

Black branches
poking through the day
Push away
The gray

Sea Horse

I am a sea horse
Silly and soft
Swimming through a sea
Happily

The waves caress me
Waves that excite
Move lightly
Through me

And I am moving
With the sea
We are flowing
lovingly

I am the sea horse
You are the sea
And we have become
The journey

An Old Memory

An old memory
appears in the night
Leaving the day
A prisoner in flight.
Each morning the sun
Dries the nightly dew.
Each time, today
Frees me of you.

“O”

Not all angels can sing
Some can only spread their wings
And in reaching for the sky
They fly

Scene, Seen

White snow falling
Over mounds of
Black coal

Rising black coal
Pushing aside
White snow

Relations

Everything is anything
We just make it so
And if you say
This is right
Why can’t I say no?

Hat

Church
Wears
A cross
On its head
Like a hat
Church
Is a
Church
Because
Of that

Our Lady

Our lady
Of good counsel
Has no answers
Today
On the hill
She sits and smiles
Her eyes are filled
With tears
Our lady
Disappears

Between Stations

I stood so many times
On the ramp
Waiting for a train
But I can’t seem to recall
Where I went
Only the image of waiting there
Is so very clear

Jul 6 LITTLE WORDS . Joyce Guion Shipley