Poet Trudy Kleckner

By allowing long stretches of daily quiet, I invite my muse, the voices of nature, and my own spirit to speak to me. And they do. Often, I take dictation from the universe. The more I unplug from the noise of modern life—television, text messages, music, screaming headlines—the more I am able to tune in to the words of creation. These words become my poems.

Arrival

by Trudy Kleckner

when a red bird sings
atop a leafless tree
and
brown grass turns green
overnight
and
popcorn clouds dot
azure sky
and
robins hop
in search of fat worms
and
buds appear on trees
unfurling chartreuse beauty
and
warm breezes caress my face

then

i exhale
inhale    smile    rejoice

spring

has arrived

Shovel in hand

in the endless white

I look around at

New Year morn

empty streets

barren driveways

sans waving neighbors

or dressed up snow people in front/back yards

forlorn smoke curling from home chimneys

only movement in the uncolored stillness

is this New Year morn

a waste or wonder land

with more snow to clear

more muscle aches to address

more time to spend

than same time last year

then most of this driveway

was sheltered with parked cars

of visiting near and dear

meaning less disarray to shovel

then muscles flexed regularly

were supple enough

meaning heavyweight hurdles could be handled

then timetables harnessed time

meaning a lot was my bidding.

Shovel in hand

in the endless white

now I only certify the obvious

growing old in body-mind

learning loss of life-dream

knowing I don’t know much

except evolution is on

nature and humans

still have to vie for survival,

snowflakes melting on my nose and eyelashes

I find

my favorite things are people

their real touch

to transform this New Year morn

from a winter waste

to a wonderland.

now more muscle aches to certify

the passage of a year like no other.

— IndRani Modal