December Motif
Yule
A still silent setting
to herald our long dark,
not even a slight breeze.
Lake caught in clutches of ice,
too thin to tread upon.
Wispy trails of ice crystals
settle along horizon,
surround sinking solar glow.
A squirrel quietly munches
sunflower seeds from feeder,
last feast of evening.
Festive lights will flicker on,
fires will be lit
to soften the blackness
and welcome back the sun.
Lainie Senechal
Sky Rune
Rune #5
The glow of early sunset
runs a wide pattern
across heavenly clouds
that recalls runes’ scribbles.
In a moment, dark rain
shadows erase the message,
followed by the rich scent
of wet autumn leaves,
scattered across landscape
that pervades the senses.
Lainie Senechal
Yellow Pears
Autumn Runes
Cormorants’ silent migration
in irregular rune-like patterns:
a mystical message across
time and distance.
Leaves scattered along lake –
what mysteries do they possess
within their demise?
Nature has scratched a note
and stuck it upon the sky
about the change
as light fades slowly
into long obsidian nights.
Lainie Senechal
White Pumpkin with Gourd and Leaves
Autumn Moon
Autumn moon peers
between branches,
as smooth as sticks.
Lost leaves that traveled
on the tireless wind
now lie along roads
or wind up in woods,
trampled by footsteps.
The moon’s enigmatic glow,
sensuous and ladylike,
softens the cold, still night.
Lainie Senechal
Apples with Leaves
Mid-October
A break in the storm
brings balmy weather,
Changing leaves twist in breeze
but do not abandon branches.
Howling winds that chill toes,
toss branches like cabers
onto brown-hued fields
have not yet arrived.
In mid-October we wait
for transition of seasons:
the arc from warm, sultry days
into fall’s cool, brisk hours.
Dream of summer is long past
while autumn’s entrance
is inexplicably delayed.
Lainie Senechal
Apple with Acorns
Autumn Musings
A cloudless autumn sky,
a day that reverses time,
summer’s mirage heats the hours,
no fog to dim our memory
of balmy days when hawks
ruled the season’s heavens.
Loss of sun and time
a phantom of our remembrances,
we imagine mellow days
will always be our measure.
Lainie Senechal
Gourds
Autumn Knocks
Things transition so slowly:
a few crisp mornings,
the birch barely bedecked
with a garland of golden leaves,
The wild winter ducks have
not returned from up north;
white gulls whirl in wind
to soar above a Great Blue
that still stilts along shore
searching for silver fish.
Autumn knocks on the door
but finds no one home.
Lainie Senechal
Sunflowers Awaken
September Morning
A morning of secrets –
a halo of mist rings
the cooling lake,
catches in branches
of tall trees along shore.
In some spots the sun
breaks through, bright
rays explode on ripples
created by rising wind which
cleans out remaining wisps,
pushes tethered boats
to rub and squeak against docks,
while a kingfisher rattles above:
the song of a September morn.
Lainie Senechal
Announcement: Lainie will be exhibiting artwork with members of the Kaji Aso Studio at the Fenway Community Center, 1282 Boylston St., Boston. The exhibit runs from Sept. 1 through Dec. 31st with an opening reception on Sept. 16th from 3-5 PM. Free and open to the public.
Grasses and flowers
Late August Malaise
Near the end of August,
in the languor of hot, humid hours,
I begin to lose focus -
so many arrivals and departures:
beach plums appear, then ripen,
swallows gather in great numbers,
flit randomly in loose flocks,
staging their leave to southern skies.
After a season of protection
and careful noting of fecundity,
plovers have deserted the beach.
A memory returns of one
who left last summer,
not to reappear in our time;
another arrives from abroad.
Some leaves look weary, already
dropping their garment of green.
They release to run amok
among grasses that ripen to gold.
Nature looks overgrown
and dusty, not quite under control,
ready to let it all go.
Autumn will cool this clamor,
then winter will settle it all
under a blanket of white.
Lainie Senechal
Restless Sea
7th Day of the 7th Month
A path over sand dunes
to empty strand where
plovers construct their nests –
rhythm of sea flows
in and out with tides
as evening colors horizon.
No fright of approaching dark
nor a jump at shadows.
I look to the heavens,
to our time of reunion,
beyond this earth
in a universe of stars.
Lainie Senechal