There will come soft rains...

Sara Teasdale

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Poetry Passage...

As I work on my collections of poetry this winter, I have decided to publish one each Tuesday. Hopefully you will enjoy and gain something from this piece. Thanks again for reading.

Diamonds feel.

He took her hand and led the way

Across the frozen creek.

They skated alone together,

She began to spin

And he let go of her hand.

He laughed and turned his back to her.

She did not know the ice was thin

Until she fell through in darkness.

Cold seeped into the twilight

Burying her in the frozen grave

As he led another to the ice.

They skated together.

Diamonds fell.

Poetry Tuesday

This is from my collection of poems,

Knocking on a Glass Table

Behind each picture is time lost-

Open it up for flesh and blood and bones.

Unseal the frame for the past to spill out naked and raw

Burdened like a bride, except the new is gone.

Old and blue weave memory tales lost in wood and glass.

Seal it back up with a whisper and a sly look.

No one will know as we reset the nail.