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Till dawn

29 Aug

Signs

These are perfect days,
not so much because I found peace
but more because I’ve made friends with stillness.
No more running in the rain for me,
today is a short stroll through tended gardens.
The wind plays flute and soft piano,
a porch swing remembers.
Clouds gather in the north and I
imagine the sea and horizon folding into one in
layered shades of black.
A child drops a seed into the earth,
each of us is watching.
In the distance, lightning strikes.
Rain breaks a seven year drought.
The preacher raises his hands in prayer.
Mourners disperse,
and I carry my father home with me to share
the rest of my life.

©Beverly Sweet/Scheidt 2012

 

sea storm BLOG

auntbeamephoto

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Directly in the path…

25 Aug

2 the bluff overlooking the pensacola bay at grandparents home  only constant in our lives

Category Five

It is both what you say
and how you say it,
marbles falling heavily
from your mouth hitting
the floor and shattering,
each word a moth made
of steel.

It is the way you clench your
fists, break only things that
belong to me,

and the way you move,
direct, calculated,

like the eye of
a hurricane before striking.

©2000Beverly Sweet/Scheidt

 

 

 

 

 

 

The symmetry of summer

16 Jul

summer flower for poem

Dirt cracking open in a spray of flowers

Seamless blue sky parting for a passing cloud

Lace petals falling from swollen trees, seeds

settling between blades of grass and weeds

A dog patiently watching a cat

A hen following a rooster across an empty street

The sound of wind opening and closing

 

The scent of rain teasing parched distance

Secrets shared between children

The arrogance of a train shattering silence

 

Women drinking sweet tea in the heat of day

Men working till dusk in barns

A murder of crow darkening sunrise, a blanket of

fireflies punctuating night

Front porches and screen doors

Embroidered curtains flowing from open windows

Homemade cookies

Cold milk

Hot dogs and good neighbors

Hope boiling below the surface like hot tar on a roof

 

Prayers and good intentions

Strong-willed men

Resilient women

Casseroles and hymnals

Heat lightening, and

stolen kisses

The slow steady beat of summer altering patterns and

habits of earth’s most predictable beasts

©bsweet-scheidt2016

Observation in Grey: January

23 Jan

cedar waxwing 2

Low heavy sky.

Biting wind and bitter cold.

The emeralds and languid turquoise of

summer reduced to neutrals.

Inside this old house drafts refuse to be tamed.

From a window as cold to the touch as ice

I watch for a sign.

Atop thin tips of willowy branches in a barren bush

a Cedar WaxWing inspects a world stripped of nonessentials.

We are so close our eyes lock.

Each studies the other.

What are we looking for?

What do we hope to find?

Where is the thread that connects us?

Wind gusts, howls.

The ancient Magnolia bends in its breath.

From far away, a dirty plastic bag has filled with bluster and taken flight.

Now it rushes between the bird and me.

Cedar Wax Wing cocks his head, but doesn’t fly.

It’s a stare-down of epic proportions,

one animal exploring another,

each with needs,

each searching,

each starving to death to know.

©bss