As the cardinal calls
pretty, pretty, pretty,
apple blossoms
quiver like
cabbage butterflies
in lilac-scented sunshine. Continue reading
Tag Archives: sage
A Sage Comes Calling
Toad teaches to
nap at noon,
hop away from
worries, and
be still.
Copyright 2019 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Ladybug and New Sage
Polkadot Princess Ladybug hides
her wings beneath
crimson shields. Continue reading
Evergreen
If you get simple beauty and naught else,
You get about the best thing God invents.
The
Opposite
Of greening
Must be browning.
Cold settles into fibers
And olive-brown blooms,
Likewise the heart slows,
Older passions fail to flow.
Snow settles on fading green,
Leaves sagging with resignation.
Even the pungent sage withers.
Yet, the possibility of vitality
Withdraws into the roots,
Lingers to bloom again.
But not love – love is
Evergreen.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Grow old with me! The best is yet to be.
— Robert Browning, Sage and Poet
Note: This poem is a concrete poem, about leaves, in the shape of a leaf.
Midsummer Stew
“Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.” – W.B. Yeats
Conla picked early sage in her garden. Her family traditionally made a lamb stew for their midsummer feast. Her mother, Bronwyn, was inside their house braising the lamb with spring onions and chives. Conla heard her neighbor’s voice, and turned to see him walking under their archway with its pink roses and purple clematis.
“I can’t find a thing! My jackets are missing their buttons. My trousers all have holes. My wallet and keys are missing again! Are you doing this to me?!” Conla’s neighbor in the white cottage next door was Seamus O’Flanagan. Their two houses were the only ones for miles in that wild part of County Wicklow. The American had retired and come to the old country to write and paint, in the county of his ancestors. His wispy white hair was standing up in the wind, and his cheeks were red with anger.