tree-light

in a shadowed wood
sun conjured maples are born
a birth of tree light

Why not wear red

summer yellow invites autumn orange

the sky calls

the sky calls me back

me and my feathers so black

though my heart rests now long

my wings beat out a song

oh how i love to fly

the sky calls me back

me and my feathers so black

i'll lift on the breeze

ride the clouds like waves on the seas

oh how i love to fly

 Danielle Gugler 2011

when the butternut sings

when you have wings

and the butternut sings

fly high,

  and wide

and then

dip 

into the creaking reach 

of this old one's tide

© 2011 Danielle Gugler 

night music

a storm-dropped minstrel
skips half-notes off the surface of sidewalk ponds
puddle music
lulla-jazz-abies
his street light lit saxophone
accompanied only by the
drip
drip
drip
of leftover afternoon rain

© 2011 Danielle Gugler

The forest through the trees

Watching each other

equinox, the moose and the moon

equinox went walking

on the night of winter-spring

stepping to the rhythm

of a song she loved to sing

she sang of bronzed and sodden leaves

peaking up from under snow

she warbled of the shifting winds

from north then south that blow

she tipped her head to the waking moon

and then to great delight

the scent of fresh-baked cookies

warmed her journey through this night

she turned her head and spoke to one

who’d come to hear her song

good eve, my friend, oh star-antlered moose

would you like to come along?

they danced to a wee log-cabin house

whose windows invited their gaze

to a kitchen,  a counter, a cooling rack

and cookies being lifted from trays

come in, please come in, the family said

we always have room for more

welcomed with cookies and humour and love

moose and equinox waltzed through the door

© 2011 Danielle Gugler

maaliskuu

maaliskuu you make me happy
the way you come madly dancing in
donning green wellies and
slippingslappingslopping your way
over ice rinks turned mudflats
leaving puddleprints in your wake

shine-sun sunshine, shifting slanting sideways now
winking at snowdrops, born from teardrops,
and drawing my eye from that
red beer cup sleeping on a gritty memory of snow

meanwhile rosie, only and already 3
stomps in her redboots beside me
chanting
poop-poop-poop
to home to home we go

© 2011 Danielle Gugler

Thinking of you

Thinking about the people of Japan.

Loving March

Snow is still snow. A seed is still a seed. Spring will come when it comes.

Follow the sunlight

cicada haiku

now and now and now
seventeen cicadas hum
why not sing along