First flush of Spring
//// green
blooms in the arms of the trees
en masse, a cloud of
//// minty fresh
/////////////// newness
—
Life wakes one more
////////////////// time.
—
c. Kate Gough
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seasons
language ii
the trees are speaking a new language today. a tongue i’ve never heard.
it’s white and brilliant, sparkling in the wind with infectious energy;
a million tiny bolts of lightning,
or anti-
matter and matter
colliding, disappearing and creating light that
penetrates the soul;
it’s a klicking akin to the language of dolphins,
neither as supple nor as dry as i’m used to hearing from these
swaying branches and fluttering leaves;
they’re coated with ice, fresh water
like drops of honey frozen still and
clear upon the slick blackened limbs,
marbles webbed in twiggy fingers like
jeweled ornaments.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough
Feb 2003 /edit: April 2004
conservation of matter / energy
woke this morning, lifted salty
eyes to a small window frosted with chill.
condensed upon the pane: night’s dew
from my cheeks and shining eyes, transformed.
outside, dark-needled giants bow, scrape
Earth, weighed down with the
weight of my
heart;
white as snow.
somewhere, a cardinal wreaks havoc.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough
11/9/05 11.53 am oregon cabin
(abt 11/7/05, unexpected snow)
small edit: feb 17 2010 1.44 pm london
Ministrations
‘Ministrations’
~ a winter window
weakly thrashing, bony limbs
glisten
under the ministrations
of a light which provides no heat.
frozen rain falls steadily
bitter weeping melting flat white knives
into the tools i will use to stay alive
when all the tears are gone.
watching the weak, half-hearted
tossings and
turnings of a
slow, cold
death.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough, Feb 13, ’05, edit Nov 16, ’11
Nature’s Marked
The tree outside my window
is mottled with rot, its green and yellow
leaves so lush and
vibrant with life now show
brittle, brownish black;
Nature’s marked
suicidal, burning holes in her own beauty,
wielding rays of sunlight like
cigarettes and crying spent leaves
like shivering tears dropping, dropping: {disappear}
Winter’s coming and she’s no faith
in the future.
Larger, ever larger
looms an inexplicable
death.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough, 11/9/04 11.09 am
Energy
my favorite time of year is Autumn — not for the leaves
{undulating flames} but for the Air: electric,
crackling with the negative charge of storms to come
until my lazy lungs open and my body hums.
I love it for the incomparable clarity of breath
~ [empty], and the tingle in my skin that births
Anticipation —
then
Awareness…
The air changes, and I feel it in my bones as
stiff leaves rustle and
hiss out of the trees.
The wind brushes my face, cleansingly
full of sparks.
Everything speaks danger and ending now,
while life Endures,
hidden.
c. Mary Kathryn Gough
Autumn 2009, edit1: Nov3,2011 (work in progress)
