[-poetry, photography, art-]

by Beverly J. Shepard

Butterflies

Rise up dancing, two together,
Into the sunshine, into the skies.
Circles, spirals, wings a-flutter:
Soundless music for our eyes.

Heron’s shadow passes over;
Darting birds play chords below;
Lifted on the scent of clover,
Dance your sweet arpeggio.

Merry worship by your being:
God is glad in what you do.
Rise up dancing through the morning;
Let our vision go with you.

papillon &copy 2005-2007 anideg
© 2005 - 2007 anideg - see anideg’s art and photography at flickr.com

‘vines’ © 2005 - 2007 portseye all rights reserved

© 2005 - 2007 portseye - all rights reserved
to see more of portseye’s work on flickr.com click here.

Reflections on an Old Road

I love the sight of something overgrown -
Where human foot has trodden heavily
And now is gone:
A vine-entangled gate,
A weed-choked path,
Nature reclaiming what once was paved or bounded.

I love to see the sapling break through stone,
Wild grape and wildflowers obliterate
A fence or wall,
Neatly-drawn lines erased,
Angles and squares
(Our foolish presumptions) now made blunt and rounded.

Oh, I am blessed when God reclaims God’s own -
With holy fingers disassembling all
We thought was ours,
By storm and sunlight,
Green growth, rush of air:
I am at home when nature puts me in my place.

abandoned cp line © 2005-2007 mezzoblue
© 2005 - 2007 mezzoblue; see more of mezzoblue’s work at flickr.com

Memento

I remember
Smiling days
Of emerald grass and whispering corn,
Of damp black earth-clods,
And transparent skies
Through which we looked into
The archways of heaven;

Of elderberry seasoning
The sun-simmered air
And countless treasures of
Corncobs in the slatted crib.
I remember
Fireflies studding the velvet
Of dusk-dimmed wheat fields,
And lightning etched
On gray clouds that rumbled
The promise of rain.
The voices of doves
Sounding the vesper chimes,
The huff and stamp of horses,
The clatter of sandals over
A wide kitchen floor,
The far-off echo of farewells
Across fields still green
In my heart -
I remember.

And when the tear-gray rain
Falls in dull monotone
Outside my door,
And the small wind that trembles
Behind the ivy
Sounds cold,
I remember.

‘mimetism’ - © 2005 - 2007 by  Philippe Tarbouriech - all rights reserved
© 2005 - 2007, Philippe Tarbouriech, all rights reserved
see more of see Philippe’s photos at phitar.com/ and his flickr photostream.

© 2005 - 2007 Bevery Shepard - all rights reserved

about the poet:
Beverly Shepard has been writing poetry since at least age 6 and has had poetry published in numerous magazines and collections. She is trained as a biologist, and many of her poems reflect a deep involvement with nature. A Quaker, she also infuses much of her work with a spiritual sensibility. She is a composer and musician: director of an early music consort and leader of sessions of sacred chant. Beverly and her husband of 38 years have raised four children to adulthood, and, like their parents, all four are activists for peace, social justice, and environmental protection. Beverly lives in Ontario, Canada, with her husband, two cats, and two goldfish, in a house in the woods surrounded by trees, birds, and wind.

Poems and photos originally published in the July 2005 issue of The Practically Creative Quarterly, theme: space and spaces

also posted in: Art , Nature , Photography , Poetry , Contributors , The Original PCQ, 05-06 , Creations

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