I am never empty hearted
I always have
At least a hint
Of hope
And sometimes
When it seems
To have gone missing
I’ll find a wisp
Like smoke
That hovers
There for just a
Little prayer
To fan it into flame




Sara Mathews     March 2016

I am that little girl that
Strolls below outside
Each morning as she makes her way
She calls to me to wander too
And I oblige
And slip into her day
We sing off key
Completely unselfconsciously
And kick the stones before our toes
Propelling them
Surprised
While we float upward
Lost in skies
Where nothing presses us
The rapid runners paddle by
Insouciance is our stride
We drift the outer current
Where all the world is wide




Saea Mathews     March 2016

I see you tucked away
The rust and red of you
Play hide and peek
Between the spin of last year’s leaf
A pale and brittle memory
Of verdant finery
It seems the perfect place to nest
Within the thorn and vine
Of tangled hopes
And dormant hues
The vivid blues of clematis
And blushing rose
And bittersweet to shelter you
From wind and weather foes
I pray to feathered deities
To bless
And fill your home
With babies strong
And songs of spring
And cardinal success




Sara Mathews     March 2016

I awoke to grey
Like a winter shawl
Thrown over Spring
And I stared out my window
And worried
As grey can make me do
But as I looked
It all became so clear
That it was more
A silver cloak
Subdued
And letting
All the Springness
With softest palette
Come through
The slightest hints
Of tender green
Became
A vibrant hue
And tiny little teardrops
That laced along the
Branches of the rose
Dazzled me
With their solemnity
And I bid each one
Good Day




Sara Mathews     March 2016

Sadness writes poetry
Until it doesn’t
Until the tears become
The ink that will not flow
And words have dried upon the line
Of losing you
There is no lyric
No clever rhyme
Sadness writes sadness
And fingers tap
At emptiness
The fog has settled in
A heaviness has perched
Upon the page
And sadness slips into the pen
And grasps
At nothingness




Sara Mathews     March 2016

Wilhelm Simmler

                                                         


I’m on a tightrope
Can’t you see
It’s tricky to maintain
The balance is an act
In fact
I pray no little breeze
Or sneeze
I’m up here in the thin of it
The storm clouds reign below
I’m good at this
I’ve got it down
Don’t try to talk me through
No messing with the tension
Please
The only thing I ask
Of you



Sara Mathews     March 2016

                                                            Willard Leroy Metcalf


Ode to March
By: Paul Gordon Mathews


Now is the new year come, not on that day
cold weeks gone by - when life was wrapped in snow
but now - in March - I know it by the way
the pasture brook runs wild - the way that rows
of winter blackened maples show the sweat
of spring on greening limbs.  Stand still and feel
the air's crisp edges folding back - to let
the softness through!  This is the only real
beginning, winter's calendar is torn
The moment when to earth a year is born!