Garden Awakening


Beside my cushioned wicker chair,
pink roses wend their tendril grace
along the fence, their eager leaves
in quest of further rambling space.

My coffee steams in fragrant swirls;
I sip its pungent, deep-hued shade,
watch butterflies take silent dips
in blossoms tastefully arrayed.

By mossy rocks, through grassy roots,
a host of tiny, scurried shapes
run morning errands...senses tuned
for pouncing foes and quick escapes.

A soft, celestial peace descends
in ripples, clear yet undefined;
like heaven-dew that trickles through
each thirsty crevice of my mind.

To Bloom Again


It's such an eagerly awaited time...
when Spring presents her latest line, reveals
a hint of fashions waiting to unfold;
the surge of blushing curves and pastel swirls
as pirouetting buds uncurl, their wafting
fragrance caught on shirttails of the wind.

With gentle skill, her tucks and frills conceal
the scars of winter's wounds. I gather cuttings
from my pain-encrusted heart and lay
them out for her to touch. I long to bloom
again, for just a while; to wear the glow
of violet hopes and freshly petalled dreams.



© Laryalee Fraser