birds

Watching the April bottlebrush without spectacles

green & light shimmering
dancing in the sunlight
little red fuzzy flames
burn quietly in the breeze
mottled blue patches
of serene springtime sky
blaze beautifully behind
a lively bejeweled scene
medallions of shade and color
twinkle in the afternoon
a mama hummingbird hovers
with wings so fast, silence
is no longer golden — she is
the sounds of the winds
overtake my soul and
carry it far off into the skies

—Terri Guillemets

Enclosed

Our bodies are meant
for the sun, the rain
the gusty winds
starlight and moon baths
fresh air and seasons —
so why do we trap ourselves
      in indoor cages?

If we can’t hear birds sing
or feel invigorating breezes —
how are we to be refreshed
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
      of our bodies?

—Terri Guillemets

Death lights heavy

Hummingbird mama
abandons her nonviable eggs —
but keeps checking back
a few more times, just to be sure.

An arm falls from a sickly saguaro
and breaks open on the ground
like a prickly green eggshell —
after decades of desert still-life
a few seconds of death-motion.

But the night breeze is so beautiful
those breezes are — so beautiful
it’s hard not to get swept away.

—Terri Guillemets

Goosebumps

a flock of honking geese
just flew over my city backyard
goosebumps, I got goosebumps

never, ever have I seen this
beautiful feat of nature from
my own little speck I call home

for an awesome morning moment
all my human burdens forgotten

—Terri Guillemets

City-desert nightwalk

early summer, late at night
pleasant sweet-smelling air
clouds veiling a half-lit moon
Scorpius crawling up the sky
tree-hid birds awake chirping
lone dog barking in its yard
startled stray cats darting
crickets playing insistent songs
quiet of people gone to bed
mellow breezes gently stirring
damp-grass lawns subtly cooling
street lights too brightly illuming
saguaro blooms softly glowing

—Terri Guillemets

Jovial vernal verse

Spring is the green
      is the peace
      is the breeze
      and the blossoms
      and the blues
      past the buds
      to the pinks
      on the brink
      and the warmth
      and the warbles
      and the weeds
      all the yellows
      and the bees
      and the buzzing
      living branches
      and the grasses
      and the gardens
      and the growing
      and the blowing
      of the pollens
      oh! the purples
      and the chirples
      of the birds
      and the beauty
      and the butterflies
      in the skies
      and the sun—
Springtime’s fun!

—Terri Guillemets

Springtime distractions

Spring excitement has entered my body, my mind, the yard!
Love vibes everywhere, bees buzz in every color of blossom.
Winter stillness ceased, idle grass is greening, trees are leafing,
the hummingbirds and geckos are back, renewed life abounds.
Warmth magics the earth, little sweet-song’d birds chirp and fly
in a playground of budding branches with a deep blue elixir sky.
Desert’s mild morning chill invigorates our souls, beckons vigor,
and begs sweater or bare-arm decisions — if coffee’s on, go bare!
freshly brewed, its steam through cool air hails springtime morn.
Earlier dawns light us awake with artful serenades of pink clouds;
gorgeous late-afternoon sunshine is Octoberesque and calming
but with air golden’d by warming fervor, not fall’s cooling swelter.
Evening breezes perfume of heaven, passion, newborn blooms.
We’ve been waiting all winter for open windows — yay & yippee!

—Terri Guillemets

Poetry of spring

Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green in rhyme
a different metre for every clime
birds chirping to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dews
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whispering in each breeze
butterflies — floating apostrophes
ladybugs dot floral question marks
blissful bees stray stanza to stanza
seeds disperse from verse to verse
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended

—Terri Guillemets