Poetry

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I know that your heart lies shattered,

Pieces strewn about the floor,

Waiting for your attention,

Waiting for your care.

Until that time arrives,

Until you have shed the tears still welling within you,

Tears for your brother and and the delicately fierce bonds of family,

Know that you are not alone.

The small hands you’ve enveloped in joy,

The eyes that have gazed upon you in admiration and wonder,

The ears that have heard your laugh and been made better by it,

The hearts touched by your caring,

Are collective souls hoping to buoy your spirit in this time of mourning

And return in small part what you have given so freely.

Colleen Sohn

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Flow

The loudly simmering whirlwind renders

Golden bolts of bronzed shelter.

Knotted, but paradise.

Mossy, ruby ladder

Running cold.

Roses ramble,

Watching music, night, and rain.

Colleen Sohn

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Summer

Summer –

time of perfect days,

long and joyous,

sun high over the horizon,

heady scents on the breeze,

a smile of contentment on my lips.

Colleen Sohn

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Wonder

A murder of Crows

Makes a terrible noise.

A warm wind whips the curtain to life,

And grey clouds fill the summer sky.

Bees buzz and zip,

Certain of their destination,

While I, with wonder, happily stand by…

Colleen Sohn

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Under the Weather

I’ve got something brewing that kept me from getting quality sleep last night.  I woke up probably a half a dozen times, got a drink of water, listened to the soft sighs of my dear husband, and eventually gathered up enough fatigue to return to slumber myself.

When I woke up this morning, still a bit tired, my mind wandered, like it always does.  It went upstairs and looked at this painting in our TV room (by Gabriel Fernandez – a little overexposed but kind of dreamy and, thus, on order).  Then a poem came.  I scribbled it down while still in bed, cats grumbling at each other, competing for cuddle time with mama, feeling sleepy themselves.  Anyway, I liked it; maybe you will too.

Lusting, longing

For pillow-topped voyages,

Sheets caressing the legs.

Further into the cocoon, she desires to be.

Everything is at hand,

Suitcase packed for the conceits of slumber.

She waits in anticipation before realizing

The train has left the station,

Leaving a wake of morning thoughts behind.

In dread, she waits once more for its arrival,

Clock ticking back the seconds.

Colleen Sohn

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