Friday, November 25, 2011

Of Each Night

Each night in the city
Was like a clear river

Running across the land and
Washing all the troubles away from the jagged rocks

The mornings would be clear and hopeful
Whether it was foggy or sunny;

There was always some sort of happiness to find
Before the day started.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Ode to an Osprey- a poem by Peter

With wings beating
Upon thin mountain air
And glimpses fleeting
Of smoke-gray feathers so fair,
He swoops through the trees
To fly over the lake
And banks to the left, one wing touching the sky
The other dips to the water, blue as the seas
As he climbs, dives, and snakes
'Till he finds a partner to dance with nearby.

They rise and dip in an intricate ballet
Until he grows weary of her charm
And dives down for someone's fresh trout fillet,
Causing passersby to cry out in alarm,
Before rising once more
To touch wings to the stratosphere
With sunlight turning to dazzling radiance
And spiraling back towards the shore,
Performing a farewell whirl like any good cavalier,
To return to the pine tree of his residence.