Demeter

The air smells deeply of earth
of rich dark shiny soil
that has just been turned by a plow.

I can see it in the field on the farm next door
dark streaks of dirt laid between
the lines of golden straw that had covered the earth
until the plow came by
and turned it over
evicting earthworms and laying bare
the secret spots where scattered seeds shall take root.

I pick up my wine from the table
and lean back in my chair.
I lift the glass to the the sun and a beam shines through,
the ray revealing rainbows hiding in the wine.

I look at the dirt in the cat scratched field
through my glass
the sun and wine bleeding red across the earth.
Soon enough, soon enough I know
the sun and the rain and that deep earthy smell
will fill my glass again.

The Cherry Blossoms

In the back yard there's an old cherry tree.
Its trunk is cracked and some branches withered
and when you look it is easy to see
every storm and winter it has weathered.

In years gone by it would fill with flowers,
bright white blossoms that weighed its branches down.
When the blooms fell from those leafy towers
they'd cover the ground like some young bride's gown.

But now the tree fights to wake from the cold,
each bud that blooms taking longer to grow.
Every spring not as fruitful or as bold
but still the tree tries to put on its show.

There's an old cherry tree in our back yard
that flowers even when its life is hard.

A Spring Haiku

The cherry blossoms
as they fly through the warm air
are snowflakes for Spring