E-Chap – Joan McNerney

A glimpse of the seasons
e-chapbook of poetry

by Joan McNerney
May 23, 2013

The Muse in Miniature

A cup of coffee
warm fat pancakes bubbling up
my haiku breakfast.

Green blue
soft rain warm sun.
Springtime.

Moss crawls over
mudstone while squirrels skip
around tree stumps.

All the greens of spring
are opening our eyes.

After the long rain
pine trees bending
with cones.

Our woods are half dressed
in fragile buds as dandelions
sprout from nowhere.

What does this cat think
strumming his tail with such ease
to fugues of Bach?

Green new leaf
fits hand perfectly—the future
lies in your palm.

Cool bright delicate.
Let me wear it around my neck,
this soft splash of rain.

It is the white hour
between deep night and soft dawn.
Even the wren stares.

This carpet of spring
to cuddle my toes in.
Such a fragrant rug!

If I could only
save this bundle of breezes
for hot summer days.

Hallow mouth of the moon.
Clouds cross forming
an airy handkerchief.

Luncheon by the lake.
How lucky we are to have
such a large finger bowl!

Summer evening.
Sun and moon share the sky in
perfect symmetry.

Splash.
One word in
oceans of sound.

Who threw a ladle full
of moonbeams on my
celery green grass?

Inquisitive…
the gingersnap cat stares as
I get undressed.

Calculating….
a fish leaps to capture
bite of heaven.

This fugue of soft rain
concert of lush leaves…
butterfly ballet.

If I were queen who
could reign on a breezy cloud…
castles in the air.

Today’s work is done.
The sun fell from the sky
for a bowl of stars.

Black and white kitten
lying under clothesline in
soft circles of sleep.

Try to catch the wind.
Count the ripples in the sea.
Become a child again.

A flying carpet of
sugar maple leaves
unfurls along my road.

Winds pause while one last
strip of sunset paints pines.

Just enough light to glimpse
silhouettes of yellow trees
against the dove grey sky.

With evening comes the
dawn of night time.

Shy autumnal bird
did you brush against the moon
to get that pale down?

Winds sway maple trees
leaves drop like butterflies
falling to the warm earth.

Rain spills over November
nights like black ink stains.

What discus player
threw a tangerine moon on
top of Main Street?

A Prussian blue sky,
willow weeps golden threads,
silver snowdrifts in brown earth.

The morning mist roams
back and forth like a
voiceless wanderer.

The longest journey is
to your loved one’s grave.

Came home just in time
for the first dizzy dance
of December flurries.

Crystals spin together in
joyful pirouette…a cool ballet.

Snow spinning in
miniature galaxies.
Soft stars brush my face.

Straining twisted arms
trees stretch to trap me
in their bare branches.

More starling than
that windowpane red with sun
are your ice blue eyes.

Shooting stars write
poetry across the sky.

A snowflake
falls in my surprised eye
…all is black.

Deep winterset night.
Sleepless stars glide through heaven
in aerial ballet.

Calico cat curving
corners against the cold.

Winter enchanted
of iced lakes, nude trees, fierce winds
I am a witness.

Snow shapes rose bushes
into giant white mums.

Stopping to see the
shape of a snowflake.

Even Goya’s portraits
are less intriguing than faces
of frost on my window.

Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Camel Saloon Books on Blog, Blueline, Vine Leaves, Spectrum, three Bright Spring Press Anthologies and several Kind of A Hurricane Publications. She has been nominated three times for Best of the Net. Four of her books have been published by fine literary presses. She has recited her work at the National Arts Club, New York City, State University of New York, Oneonta, McNay Art Institute, San Antonio and other distinguished venues. A recent reading was sponsored by the American Academy of Poetry. Her latest title is Having Lunch with the Sky, A.P.D. Press, Albany, New York.

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