PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I felt betrayed
when you showed up,
awkward guest,
all pomp and flutter,

but you lured me
into this baffled
forest,
white on green,
you trickster shaking
us out of our
April dreams.

Without you I would
have missed the
fugitive light stowing
away on your
blurry stream,
a light I suspect is
a conscious being,
perhaps a liquid shaman
trickling down,
chanting hope
and wanting to heal.

And I wouldn't be so
far from the
sham hello's and
chiseled smiles
and vampire friendships
of my other life,

and a life without
surprise is an
ice-clad tree
standing at attention,
simply there and
waiting for any signal.

So rain on me
angel confetti in
my march to understanding.

Anoint me in your
ritual of white.

Patricia Joan Jones