POST OAKS IN WINTER
Carol J. Rhodes
Ê
Leafless branches
spread spidery shadows
across fields dried by early frost.
Silhouetted against clear blue skies
they stand like dark soldiers
guarding treasures of life-giving sap
to nourish their first buds of spring.
SPINDRIFT COVE
Carol J. Rhodes
In early morning light
gulls overhead swoop and call,
waves crash against the rockbound coast.
Blue-green water churns into frothy spindrift,
wind hurls spray against glistening cliffs.
The pounding surf takes its bow,
accepts bouquets of kelp
then rushes to its next performance.
WHERE HAVE THEY GONE?
Carol J. Rhodes
Ê
The old house stands vacant now.
Tall grass and weeds fill the garden
where flowers once bloomed,
while a splintered front gate
creaking in the wind
echos sadness at loss
of family members whose lives
were shaped within its walls.
Butterflies fresh from cocoon
and a nest of fledgling robins
give hope that someday
this house, too, will have new life.
WHITE LADY
Carol J. Rhodes
She was born into an unfamiliar place
sightlessly searching for warmth
and motherÕs milk.
Allowed to explore on her own
while under watchful eyes,
she grew and learned,
pouncing from hard knock to hard rock
at last springing into her own place.
Landing on all four feet,
she sees through adult eyes now
but still with kitten-like innocence.
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