Seven Poems in Seven Days.

Actually there were ten, but some of them aren’t worth sharing.


After feeling “too busy” and having “too much” else going on (right, join the crowd – I’ll share more on this next week)… my heart returns to poetry.  Like nature, this is where I find my grounding, my uplifting. The first thing I ever remember writing.  I wonder if it will be the last.


The following is the result of a ten-day personal challenge taken on with Carrie of The Shady Tree.

It turned out to be a prolific enlightening to my inner passion.

Perhaps it may just look like lot of words.

With these, I hope you may find something that touches your heart too.

Read a paragraph, a stanza, a poem as you like.


Gratitude for a dear friend, fellow poet, artist, and lover of family, nature and life.

Gratitude for words, creativity, and inspiration – all of which abound in this beautiful world.

(Please stop by Carrie’s site over the next few days, too, to see how the same photo can inspire such different words.)


Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree



You can only get


by wet foot

Cool and soft and


squishing deep brown

between bare toes

Over slick rocks


The sweet moist scent of earth and


Last years dreams fermenting in


Never drying soil

Like a festering open wound

Where the branches bend low overhead


Heavy and wet and untouched

By daylight

which in turn is obscured


By an endless

swath of fog


Dampened desires

Laying heavy on moist flesh

Suppressed by sunlessness


Do you remember what

burning feels like

Warm and gold on


Exposed flesh


Instead in this succulence

Each drop a tiny window into the soul

An eternal pool


That will evaporate

and turn to steam

Should the sun burn


through the fog


Photo by Gin



Barren are last year’s


now Hard and brittle

Spent and sallow

having been bent over

By the weight of

last season’s snow

Their seeds scattered

in the spring rains

Brown dust

to brown earth

And so it should be


I lean over

as not to disturb

That which managed

against the elements

And marvel

at the simplicity

And complete

complexity and pure beauty

Preserved by the wind like

An embalmed queen


What inner

secrets do you reveal

Spilling forth promises

of eternity

That few may

bend close to hear

Before the bright easy days

of new growth

Consume us


Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree



On Wednesday

The midwife soars



Taking flight

Because she is called

And though it appears


She has no control

And just moves

Out of action or reaction


of spreading her wings

And rising effortlessly

gracefully naturally into the stirring air


This remains

the most self controlled act

she may ever manage


Of leaving a ground

And returning

While remaining where she was.


Photo by Gin



Last year’s leaves

Next year’s soil

Compressed under this morning’s snow


Elk tracks across pasture

Revealing delicate chartreuse

Of spring grass




A quiet awakening


Beneath the consuming

unassuming white shelter

The robin is silent this morning.


How can I see something new

In the same old landscape

Like looking into the eyes of a lover


You have wrapped your body

around for over a dozen years

And still find beauty and shiver.


now in static essence of early morning

Upon brown damp soil

robin sings in the cold grey light.


Photo by Gin



Boots by the door

coated with clay

Brought in from out there,

Damp coats and wool hats


hang to dry.

What’s the point

You ask me

And I don’t have


a good reply.

We both know

they will only

be wet again.


Somehow starting out


seems like

the thing to do.


The dog comes in

indifferent to wet fur and

Brown tracks behind him

With no boots to


leave by the door.


Out there

Where the bark of aspen

is soaked  to green grey.

Silver tips


on bare branches where

water pools in

tiny glass beads,

and brown water


flowing through

brown soil, saturated.

creeks cutting new paths.

old paths.


it will all be washed away

we say

if this keeps up.

Heavy skies


in stratum,

the movement of

silky flowing veils.

What secrets do they reveal


As an entire mountain


And does it matter anyway

That the horizon has changed,


Is no longer

Peaks and ridges

But soft simple close



The view, the future, awareness


In the sound on the metal roof

That comes in waves,

Strong and steady like


deep breathing

As wet as the ocean

And as far away

Above me


Photo by Carrie of The Shady Tree



In my dreams

I am flying



Into secret places

Of mountain

And mind


Of my soul

Where even in winter

It is lush and green


Places no one else

can touch

Or see


And maybe I won’t share

Not even with you

Unless I feel certain


You need to know

I keep them for



I become Crow

Seeing from above

A  mountain in


parts of a whole


Its steep slopes

And jagged rocks

And soft spring grasses


And the course of

the cutting river

From so high


As if I were

in the wind



across the open flats

and navigating the

rugged bluffs


in and out of

tall timber

until at last I light


upon the highest snag


above it all

the voyeur of my soul

seeing across the big air


and down into that

hidden oasis

no one else is meant to see


stealing a glimpse


in this vast entirety


absorb my world

open my eyes

and find myself still




Photo by Gin



On the surface

She shines

Simple and radiant

Easy going like

the afternoon breeze

On a good spring day




Stillness of soul


Waiting for

the coming unrest



5 thoughts on “Seven Poems in Seven Days.

  1. I can feel the land deeply in my being, grateful that you are welcoming Alyssa into your world unfolding. Blessings All Around,  Sandy Young

    Sent from my Verizon Wireless 4G LTE smartphone

  2. Gin, this is a lovely post! I love seeing our photographs all together and it was such a treat to share these 10 days with you. I looked forward to writing every day, now that is saying something! Looking forward to sharing more words with you soon.

  3. Pingback: My 300th Post and Excerpts of 10 Days of Poetry | The Shady Tree

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