January Collage Poem: Beginnings and Exits
Mothers of sons dream troubled dreams
of blowing leaves and anniversaries.
Give me an energetic brush every time
it smells like winter, trees sigh softly
and nature floats my boat. Red and gold
leaves scurry along in the force
the pungence of words strong enough
to sting the nostrils, sweet enough
to bless the ears
glamour in fleece and recognition
nutmegs and mountains, sunset and birdsong
written retribution... nature doesn't care
blue mountain kisses bring a summer's day.