Man, with his metal beaver-teeth
chops down the world’s trees —
saws, whines, grinds — loudly
without a care but human “needs”
—Terri Guillemets
trees
In the autumn wood
green-veined leaves suddenly blushing copper
bronze-edged trees swaying in autumn breezes
gold foliage drifting past pewter branches baring all
brass-hued leaflets dying in beauty, falling in grace
—Terri Guillemets
Branching
this winter afternoon
i stare between bare
branches of gray trees
in the distance i see
an unreturnable past
or a dwindling future
i can’t tell which but
the silence is sublime
—Terri Guillemets
Palm’s psalm
Wind tries to show Tree how to run wild.
Tree: “I cannot leave this place.”
Wind: “Then let’s dance.”
—Terri Guillemets
Poem of the April Palo Verde
Yellow.
Freaking.
Everywhere.
—Terri Guillemets
Moonlit plum tree
the moon and plum tree
make flow’ry springtime shadows—
lovers of the night
—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
From the library to the park
Happiness is sharing a bowl of cherries and a book of poetry with a
—Terri Guillemets