WOLF WIND
The wind comes wary,
Like a quiet wolf
Sneaking through the trees,
Watching what’s lying
In front of him.
This house blown down,
That tree uprooted.
The whole of one small town
Wrecked by the wolf wind’s fury.
Except for that little corner
Where Lovers plot and plan
their glowing future.
Feeling the wolf’s sharp teeth
nibbling,
They kiss and deny him.
Rap his nose and send him home
crying.
©2021 Gwen Grant
BLUE STRAWBERRIES
I dreamt last night
Of blue strawberries,
The field they grew in
So big and so blue
It tilted the sky,
Until the world turned upside down.
The sea,
Thundering and roaring,
Fell upon us
Catching us unaware.
Yet, as the waves
Swept us away
None of us were sorry.
Too busy looking forward
To a new beginning,
To a scrubbed clean version
Of an old tomorrow,
Full of blue strawberries.
For if they were there,
Who knows what else
Was waiting for us.
Hope, for certain.
©2021 Gwen Grant
MARCH HARES
March Hares
Boxing in the middle of the big field.
The wide white light of the moon
Tearing shadows into fragments
Of black and white confetti.
These magical creatures,
Owned by witches and wizards,
Bring magic with them.
They are the first to see darkness
Detach itself from the silent hedgerows.
The first to hear hunters
Drop to the cold ground,
To steal the hare’s likeness
For their photograph albums.
Greedy to capture the joyful secrets
Of wild creatures made of magic,
Eyes full of white moonlight,
Ears that semaphore night secrets.
Witches and wizards hiding
In the darkness of fretwork trees,
Balancing on stones in icy rivers.
To scare away those who desire
To see the beauty of March hares,
Boxing in white moonlight.
© 2021 Gwen Grant
THE DANCING YEARS
They had nothing to offer each other
But themselves.
Neither of them much of a scholar,
Both full of love, however, and dreams
That would last a lifetime.
They loved to dance,
Loved to sing,
Loved to drink one too many,
Then dance complicated dances
Without falling over.
Everyone said it couldn’t last.
Years later, it turned out
They were a perfect match,
Still smiling at each other
First thing in the morning.
© 2021 Gwen Grant
CHANGING SEASONS
This first flower
Has taken the garden
By surprise.
Purple and gold,
A small drop
Of glory
Has turned Winter
Into Spring.
Down the path,
Alongside the field,
Two Lovers
Kiss.
Summer
Has come early.
©2021 Gwen Grant
Poems by Gwen Grant 