Empty

Here is a little offering. The lines, "Inspiration stalks us/ through gloom" are from HD's Trilogy. It's an amazing piece. I just went back and read it again, and it leaves me awed. HD you rock!

Empty

Some days
The words don't come
And the rain does
As HD said
Inspiration stalks us
Through gloom
But she is not always a good tracker
And the page remains
As empty as
My heart

Sunday Scribblings #234 - Love

Love

It strikes like a bolt of lightening
Out of the blue;
And we are left,
Wondering where to hide the bodies

Random Question:

Why does Oktoberfest in LaCrosse start in September???
Am I the only one who thinks that's odd? Just wondering.

Autumn

It isn't officially autumn for a couple days, but it feels and looks and smells like fall in Wisconsin today. This is a poem I wrote awhile ago that I still like. I think it describes September in Wisconsin pretty well.

September

September is the turning time.
As Monarchs move to warmer lands
They foreshadow
Flashing, falling leaves
Of Autumn’s cloak.

She empties her cupboards
Feeding us left-over summer,
Grown limp and wilted
Towards the end,
Making room for fresh fall days
And mellow nights.

She is generous with her garden.
Treasure lies buried in potato hills,
Round, red raspberries bejewel bushes,
And golden mums heap
Beyond the wildest dreams of Midas.

September gives us faith.
There is enough;
We can move past the point
Where light and shadow
Balance on the fulcrum
Of autumnal equinox.

Then scarlet Sumacs
Wave good bye to Summer
And beckon Autumn, “Come.”

Emma

This all started through procrastination. This morning when I couldn't sleep I was looking at Sunday Scribblings, thinking I'll get in there early and do their weekly writing prompt. Well, this week's word is 'Treatment' and nothing much stirred in the 'little grey cells.' Soooo I decided to look at last week's word, since I didn't then, when last week's word was this week's (got that? good, glad one of us does). So, last week the writing prompt was 'Wait' and I looked at a few other people's peices on waiting, and started thinking about it. And then I started thinking about things worth waiting for.
And then Emma, my 12-year-old, Chocolate Lab-bat cross, who can tell time, comes to me, wagging and expectant at 6:42 AM. Meal times for Emma are 7:00 AM and 5:00 PM, but she lives in hope. She lives in hope that I will ignore the curse of the digital time read out at the lower right corner of my computer screen and just FEED HER! So I caress her head, scratch her ear, look into those lovely brown eyes - and melt. For Emma the wait is over. And my procrastination, which has led to musings on waiting has led finally to a little poem about hope!

Emma sits
Beside the dish
Hoping
I will forget
That meal time is
At 7:00
Hoping
At 6:42.
But I do not forget -
I relent