Spring

Good morning from the lakeside deck ~

Poetry prompt from Tweetspeak Poetry Press using writing exercises from Mary Oliver’s book, How To Write A Poem. My poem is based on the prompt using a poem by Stevens, Snow Man.

One must be a mind of spring
To feel the rich coolness in the air
And the ground unearthed

To behold the Ozark hills adorned
Sprinkled in spring pinks and service whites
And hold their softness in your arms

To be out and about roaming
Walking boldly among the blossoms
Feeling each new petal and young green leaf

And in April still breathing in pollen storms
While braving the weather forecasts anyway
To walk through the back hollows

Go down by the creek rock springs
And watch the clear waters flow
Then hunt for morels undeneath an old elm tree

Sit in wonder at a mountain lake
To see the sunlight play
And watch the southeast winds hit water tops
Making new disappearing wind-fans

One must have a spring mind
To know what is new
And to find their roots again

Poetry, Spring, Written for NaPoWriMo

Bear House Point

Day 6 – Sunday, Writing for April National Poetry Month with NaPoWriMo prompts.  
Today we are asked to write . . . what is outside our window.

I sit back while I watch rain falling
Here upon the first cabin, the Bear Point House
Across from our cove and on its own
A small pennisula reaching out

A most lovely house nestled into these Ozark hills
Bounded by Lake Ann and its wildlife homes
Peeking out many windows light the night
All in friendly persuassion
That all is right

National Poetry Month

Moments Held Close

Day 2 – for National Poetry Monthphoto (42)

my morning’s rise
a muted sun sits behind a humid sky
I gently and slowly glide

into the warm spring air
walking out along the Ozark ridge
a rich pagent of nature in prime-time

new jewels of golden crowns
play hide-n-seek down
by the woodland trees

high in the tree tops
squirrels play an extreme game of tag
even sleepy-eyed pops

two neighborly ravens mightly fly
through the cove
awakening predestined May flies

with promises of warm spring air
in the ease of close moments held
I find me in my nesting chair