poems

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Poetry Selections

How Is It Feathered Flocks Know?

Summer's Return
January Rain
Need
Fog
I Love a Rainy Day

The Tense Future

How Is It Feathered Flocks Know?

How is it feathered flocks can know
The time is apropos to go,
When the time is right for southerly flight,
How is it feathered flocks know?

Is it that first subtle hint of autumn’s hue
That bids them “come, let’s fly in queue
before the earth is a blanket of white”?
How is it feathered flocks know?

Or is it the blast of arctic air
That tells them they should be elsewhere,
And sends a kite to distant heights?
How is it feathered flocks know?

I’m certain I shall never know,
When autumn skies glow indigo,
What causes them to take to flight.
How is it feathered flocks know?

Summer's Return

Fall's fluorescent foliage burst forth

in brilliant hue

in the cool white light of the morning sun

A not-so-subtle sign of winter's impending fury

Summer's days were numbered

and, gracefully, she stepped aside

for the radiant array of Fall's display

She would return some day

in the heat of passion

and embrace her world once more

January Rain

Isn't it funny
How a January rain
Can bring about a downpour
Of tears, how the cold, somber
Sky brings to mind the passing
Of years?

Gone, again,
The tranquil glow
Of holiday candles,
The warmth of heart,
The pure feathery softness
Of a Christmas Eve snow.

In with the new, out with the old
We chant, one and all
Cheering last year's passing
While we welcome the unknown,
When it is the unknown we truly fear,
The past we hold dear.

Isn't it funny
How we can see so clearly
In a January rain...

You were so small

I knew you

would always need me

Then you grew

despite a mother's forbidding

But I loved you still

And you needed me yet

Now you are tall

And I doubt you

need me

Soon you (must) leave

despite unspoken forbidding

But I will love you still

Please need me yet

In the darkness of night it crept

In silence

Embracing each thing with a gentle mist

Softly

Its hazy shadow was cast upon the hard-frozen earth

The image born, complete peace

I delighted in the ethereal beauty

And was acutely aware of the hush

That had fallen along with the fog, muting

The starkness

The harshness

Of both sight and sound

Transforming each thing for a moment

By its presence

I Love a Rainy Day

Clouds hide the sun

And in thanks my tears fall freely

mingling with drops of rain

No one sees my sadness now

Or the veiled bleakness of my soul

The tortured thoughts of arising doubt

Uncertainty that does not wane

They don't understand

And I can't explain

How I love a rainy day

The Tense Future

The child had grown

Innocence left home

It happened much too fast

And then tomorrow

Became what was

The present could not last

The eyes have it

They declare what lips cannot

The eyes have it

And see clearly through all doubt

The eyes have it

They weep for joy and grieve

The eyes have it

And seldom will deceive

The eyes have it

Though heart might try to hide

The eyes have it

And always see inside

Before the door of your heart I lie in wait

A beggar, in need of love

And I am blest

For I know my hunger shall be satisfied

in the world he created

neither touched nor would be touched

within the walls of his room

within this self-made womb

life to be born

only from afar, keeping his heart to himself

lest he lose it

allowing it to beat only in solitude

lest he feel pain

And he dreamed

of all he wanted and could not have

of all he would not be

Above all, he must not give

having never lived

And no one knew

(All poetry on these pages original work of Monica E. Smith)

*I Welcome Any Comments On My Poetry*

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