Barely knowing

Spring and summer come with a lush layer of foliage over reality, but when things start falling away in the autumn and get bare and stark in the winter we’re forced to look at things more as they really are, including ourselves.

—Terri Guillemets

Clouds out my window

Ever seen an August cloud in July? —
deliciously bright puffy white striations
on a sky the bluest blue this side of Rigel.
The earth is still living in steamy summer
but these lovely lingering clouds distinctly
belong to the early edges of autumn.

—Terri Guillemets

City-desert nightwalk

Early summer, late at night
Pleasant sweet-smelling air
Clouds veiling a half-lit moon
Scorpius crawling up the sky
Tree-hid birds awake chirping
Lone dog barking in its yard
Startled stray cats darting
Crickets playing insistent songs
Quiet of people gone to bed
Mellow breezes gently stirring
Damp-grass lawns subtly cooling
Street lights too brightly illuming
Saguaro blooms softly glowing

—Terri Guillemets

Poetry of spring

Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green the rhyme
a different metre for every clime
chirping birds to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, & purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dew
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whisper in each breeze
butterflies as floating apostrophes
ladybug-dotted question marks
a flourishing bloom at every stop
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended

—Terri Guillemets