Two Poems

May 27, 2021 by

winds walk

bangs the door
i must go out

rain spilling down
her hat brim hanging
on tight the wind
would like to take
her hat and keep it
i refuse to let go

she holds my
hand the child loves the wind
and rain her wet palm
slips between my wet fingers

in the wild wet
tempest morning
she rescues
worms and
puts them
safely in the grass

her voice the childs
laugh wind-yanked from
her mouth with mine dissipates
dispersed between
glittering water droplets
wet wind whips the
lake drives leftover
leaves into
yard an old man sits
at his window he drinks
black tea without
milk mentally he
cleans up leaves
piled by
his front door

2EmbedFabric art by Jenny Gneiting

An English Spring

Down the lanes the dusts of Spring
Settle soft on upturned heads;
The white and gold and yellow stars
Hide safe behind a rock.

And Spring, a yellow field, runs down toward the sea -
Sunlight flooded, golden studded, chaffinch
In a blackthorn hedge. A pheasant pair,
Out catching air, waddles past the bluebell stalks.

Toward the sky, hope spirals high

Trilling heaven bound.

And I, a part of soil and field -

Just pieces of the chalk-white hill
An errant wisp of feathered ash -

I store Spring’s light rays in my soul.

Meghan Rhoads lives at Beech Grove, a Bruderhof in Kent, United Kingdom.


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