Let It

Let It

Not just once but many times She surrenders,

the Wisteria, lusciously sweet,

royally purple, palest lavender,

clusters like Concord grapes

drooping, sprouting wild everywhere.

Leaves so new and tender-green,

I can’t even feel them to the touch.

Huge, heavy scent,

like a sultry liaison on a hot afternoon,

or like three Grandmas in church,

or like a little girl’s Christmas perfume.

Surrender!  says She,

and again She gives forth so big,

trees and roofs are dwarfed by Her energy.

Let it just fall, fall down,

give up, She shows us!

And why do you hold on so tight?

Fall, let fall!  and as you do,

your beauty, your perfect wholeness

falls open for all to see.

 

copyright Annelinde Metzner    April 2009

The sheer lace curtain

Icy white curves of pure sunshine

come through the white lace curtain

surprised, as if the Sun

had tumbled into a clothes dryer

full of lace undies.

I can’t fully see the day,

She is so veiled, so disguised

in honeycombs of lace,

lace petals of flowers,

filigrees and tendrils,

flirtatious as flickering flame

even though the glass is frozen.

It’s twenty degrees today, even at the beach,

January. A world white as lace,

and hiding something too, maybe hiding a year,

a whole new year, a brand new number,

the world not quite discernible

beyond the sheer lace curtain,

January delicate and lovely, thin as lace.

The Sun, as bright as He can be,

happily cascading into white roses of lace,

caught in time, in January’s sheer wonderment,

the unknowing, the promise of the future,

beyond somewhere, waiting.

copyright Annelinde Metzner      January 2009

(photo by Anne Laudati)