l i g h t w r i t e r s

Word(s) . Light . Life



Retrospectively,  lost years
were no more a prison
than winter’s spare gaze.
There was always a flip side.
The way things simply grew
How days evolved artfully
How rain splattered at will
playfully against sun and sky
Her toiling years, not lost
had given something more
a tangible space, of liberty.
More room for flowers.

© 2014 S. Michaels
Light Years

image: hqscreen.com (yellow umbrella)



Aurora waves
Reshaping nights
Crossroads split
Compass needles
Sharp, sloughing
Away dark’s chill
Portaging circles
Skipping rapids
A wild loon’s call
Echoing white waters
Whispering birch
Tamarack and pine
North, shaking slumber
Singing her awake

2014 S. Michaels
Light Years

image: wallpaperhi.com (Canada rivers)

1 Comment

Plum Grove

Brush flying solo
Old man pauses
Disappears again
Whiling away hours
In a distant summer grove
Sheltered by grape vines
His lone companion
The brush, his thoughts,
Time incandescent
Sweeping blue birds
Cloud-swept fields
His canvas, a stretch
Of stars, living, drying
In sweltering heat
A scent of plums
Taking him elsewhere
Back, some place
When life was young

© 2014 S. Michaels
Light Years

image: wallpaperup.com


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