APRIL POETS

The chanting of birds

By

Kathleen Freeman

Birds crowd the air in gangs.
They burden the trees.
Chanting down from high thrones.

Clouds wisp sky as if brushed
by lovers gentle fingers.
Soft-bellied cows lie down content.
Ruminating on their task.
The air is perfumed by new mown grass.
While evenings wings cast early shadows.

As still and as long as a held breathe.
The day lingers.

The day and I wait.

When will you return?

Sleep

By

Kathleen Freeman

Storms batter the house like an angry man.
Winds yell rebellion through the doorway.
Lattice window flaps all night in her dreams.

Bats and birds chattering and crashing at the windows.
Sending shafts of fear to pierce the drapes of  dark.

Clinging to the raft of sleep she wanders a nomad.
Wretched rag of bones through memories battleground.
Searching in vain the ravaged landscape.

Wonders should she wake to face the day?
Limpet hope still clings to rocks casting the first
fleeting shadows of daybreak, turning tide.

While faceless monsters slouch forward. vacant in eye
Emptied of reason, to embrace her wearied shoulders.
Singing mythical tales into her ears, the sirens lament.
They struggle and wrestle like ancient lovers.

Breaking free, grasping the rope of night she sails.
Washed on the riptide of waking.
Onto the shores of just another day.