Spring Healing

She sat on her favorite rock out in the pasture.  Sturdy and silent, it supported her in times of sadness.  After the harsh killing winter, she needed its strength more than ever.  She cried hot tears, watching as they wet the cool surface.  When she had no more tears to shed, she looked around and noticed the beauty of spring surrounding her, as if it had magically arrived during her visit.   She picked up the sketch pad beside her, found her pencil, and began to draw spring, beautiful and renewing, just as it was meant to be.

doodles of springtime
flowers jump from artist’s page
coloring my world


I just love when prompts fit together.  At d’Verse Poets the task was to write a haibun, a combination of prose and poetry.  You can read more about the requirements of the genre at the Meeting the Bar challenge.  Margaret asked us to look at sketchbook poetry for the challenge at Real Toads and shared some of her daughter’s amazing sketches.  I love this combination of poetry, prose and art.



Today’s challenge at Real Toads is to examine whether or not April is the cruelest month in 66 words or less.

goat kid

April morning starts with
dead brown grass,
last summer’s remains,
blanketing barren ground.
waiting.  waiting.
while brilliant sunshine
teases with chilling winds;
frosty mornings freeze
new life trying to begin.
waiting.  waiting.
for rain renewed life,
the green of living again,
fodder for new babies
and budding poets
beside maple trees;
leaves bursting forth;
flowers peeking from earth,
but for now we are
waiting.  waiting.  waiting.


The Other Side of Spring

I haven’t spent much time writing poetry lately.  I’m deeply entrenched in revising my new novel.  I’m making progress, but I tell you, the editing might some day drive me crazy.

The Wednesday Out of Standard challenge is to take a look at spring’s dark side.  I’ve also written this in 55 Words for G-Man.

female bluebird

A nest is built

soft feathers line

high in the tree

safe from predators

eggs laid and turned

tended with care

kept warm beneath

mother’s body

helpless naked babies

fight free from shell

into precarious life

tiny fledglings grow

raging storm attacks

flinging fledglings

unprotected into

darkness of night

to drown alone

on sodden ground