A guest in lavender

Someone has arrived with spring,
A gangly girl cast in a lavender hue,
She sojourns at the garden gate,
Positioning her whimsy there,
Her want to protect the portal,
My wife has unfounded jealousy,
She says this spindly guest mocks,
Though she has not spoken, she clings,
Rearranging the wooden fence tactfully,
I find her a rather refreshing temptress,
Sliding beneath the crocus and rose,
Her gown of green lifted, baring,
Leggy female of Mother Earth,
You have interrupted my plans,
How can I but love you, my sweet,
Unwelcome beauty, euphonious Wisteria.

 ©2015, Donald Harbour

This single kiss

He tenderly kissed her lips,
Then moved along his way.
A vagabond of the moment
His habit was not to stay.

She quivered ever so slightly,
Responding to the passing bliss.
His seed planted deep with in her,
Given gently in a single kiss.

Other lips awaited anxiously,
Beckoning from each lady fair.
On to the next budding beauty,
The Bumblebee coursed the air.

Ungainly little insect,
How the flowers love you near.
Hanging from your stubby wings,
Impossible flight you dare.

No honey is placed in your nest,
As your smaller cousins do.
But life you spread equally,
Each spring as the world renews.

Is it possible that you alone,
Are there to show us how?
With bands of black and yellow,
And pollen upon your brow.

It is not so much the beauty
Of your skill or grace or charm.
But that you know your one lone task,
Each year to tirelessly perform.

In watching you about your work,
It comes to this human mind,
That a lesson can be learned from you,
Which would benefit all mankind.

Like you each of us must work at life,
Some earn, some steal, some pay.
What if we all put back as much,
As that for which we took away?

By sweat of hand or thoughtful deed,
We all were pleasured to give,
So that the great and little lives,
In all nature might be helped to live.

From ant to flower – sea to earth,
From one creature to mighty herd.
Mankind and beast could live,
In peaceful harmony by but a word.

As you kiss the upturned lips,
Suspend in wondrous flight above,
Your kiss an expression of the word,
It is known as Mother Nature’s, love.

© 2011, Donald Harbour

Winter is not welcome

We chose the house simply,
On a slight rise surrounded by nature,
Tight against winter chill.
Inside Chopin, good wine, warmth,
The voice of the fireplace a whisper,
Its heart beat, a pulsating heat.
We have climbed life’s mountain, together,
Hand-in-hand, helping, sometimes waiting.
The scent of us is mingled in the night,
A winter storm beats on the door,
We will not let it in, it is not welcome.
Winter is the change, the long sleep,
The blanket of snow preserving the spring.
We will look out our windows in May,
There will be flowers dancing with color,
Like memories stored, they live in belief.
We have always believed in another spring,
Nature’s reward for surviving winter.
Beside me on the couch I see you,
Your smile sweeps the cob webbed years away,
My wine glass empty, yours left untouched.
Though the hours only receive my breath,
I know you are there, patient as always.
These memories of you, small fragments of life,
But they are all I have and that is enough,
Their inner light pushing darkness away.
When sleep finds me, I will dream of you,
Holding you through the winter night once again.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour

If I could but…

If I could but write,
the way your life is written.
If I could give salvation,
to a lost soul needing saving.
If I could feel the warmth,
again of past lover’s gentle kiss.
If I could sustain a springs,
forever waves of perfumed flowers.
If I could hear the first chirp,
of every newborn hungry chick.
If I could taste the salt,
of every shed pain filled tear.
If I could reach out a hand,
calming the aching void of loneliness.
If I could turn back the clock,
removing all traces of aged lines.
If I could hold your heart,
aloft in a glowing bubble of love.
If I could, if I tried,
I would find it all in your smile.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour

The lass of another year

"Spring Alive" - graphic art by Donald Harbour

The last bit of frost
visited this morning.
Winter’s child grasping
at Spring’s new issues.
There is a calamity
in the air and the dawn.
The seasonal titans
playing rocks and scissors.
The sky is darkened
by their incessant indecision.
But, the earth knows
awakening with a yawn.
Birds have stirred
to the parade of earthworms.
Ants are seen to muster
armies for future picnics.
Growth elbows and pushes
for a moments basking.
Slowly, inextricably
we tilt toward summer.
A smooth passage across
a sea of blossomed pastures.
The joy of life skips,
dances into the heart.
The lass of another year
is wearing her pinafore frock.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour