My Soul Has Found Her Place Again

At the end of the day
On the banks of the stream
By the still water I stand
Warmed by the tea cup in my hand
And watch the calm water
Creased by the wake of a muskrat
Joyfully swimming through
The evening stillness.

I am in the best cathedral
The tall pines forming lush green walls,
And surrounded by the angel chorus
Of frogs,
And the whinny of the robins
As they settle in for the night.
This flat, gray water soothes my harried soul
And I feel the stillness settle in my spirit
And nestle around my beating heart
And I know,
My soul has found her place again.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 24, 2016)

Canada Goose

You are a wild thing

and from your feathered breast

I feel my own heart beating,

and when you fly and cry

Your haunting wild song

I hear the yearning of my own soul

to know the wild places that you know,

to see the places you have seen,

to feel that wind beneath my wings,

…if only I had your wings, your eyes,

…if only I could sing your wild cries,

…if only I had the freedom to fly.

~Kathie Adams Brown (February 1, 2016)

Summer Sunday Morning in Maine

I wake to the scent of the salty sea
Black-capped chickadees call to me,
Morning fog floats on the bay,
sea gulls call and fly away,
This is my life on the coast of Maine
where no two days are ever the same.

~Kathie Adams Brown (August 30, 2015)

Summer Rain

I just want to sit and listen to this rain

I want to turn off the manmade world and let Nature sooth my soul.

The repeated phrases of a vireo’s song are dripping from the trees.

Tufted titmice, gray as this stormy sky, scold and call from foliage

embracing me like verdant arms.

This summer rain in the north woods is a lovely place to be;

If the earth is my mother, then,

I am snuggling into her breast

and listening to her beating heart,

and this rain is not the sound of weeping but,

a soothing lullaby.

~Kathie Adams Brown (July 1, 2015)

A Spring Evening in Maine

I stood in the misty green at dusk

and heard the cuckoo’s call,

in the dark green woods

the pewee’s song

rang through the glittering trees,

overhead a flock of waxwings

went zinging across the sky,

and there in this tranquil, greening spring,

Here in this misty dark I stand,

Content.

~Kathie Adams Brown (June 4, 2014)

I Don't Know Whether

I don’t know whether

It’s the weather

That moves me to wrote poetry,

Or moves me to climb a tree!

If I had some feathers

I would not mind the weather.

I could perch outside in a tree,

Or fly above the canopy!

And I would not wonder whether

It would be snow, or rain, or sunny weather,

I’d just take flight with all my feathers

In whatever weather!

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2015)

National Poetry Writing Month/ 30 Poems in 30 Days 2015

At Last

At last the warm air drifted in

after a long, cold and bitter winter

a day when birds landed in droves

and fresh warm air filled the land.

I, breathing the scent of that warmth,  

cast off my chores for the day,

and stayed outside.

All day.

It was as if I had been released from a long imprisonment.

I walked through mud that sucked at my shoes.

I listened to the trickle of melting snow as it formed puddles around me.

The music of song sparrows drifted over the wet, melting earth

—a song of joy to me!

And then in the evening, as dusk settled like a fawn to the ground,

the peenting of woodcocks was heard

and the winnowing of their wings in an eager mating flight display

and I stood in the yard, my mouth agape,

Listening to the music of spring—at last!

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 4, 2015)

NaPoWriMo/ 30 Poems in 30 Days

To Reach for the Sky

Cattle Egret in CA 2012

What joy it is to reach for the sky

Arms open wide

to receive all there is,

or to celebrate

and cheer

With elation.

These arms of mine

So taken for granted

Are essential things

I use them every day—in so many ways;

to hug, to reach, to grasp,

to perform essential tasks!

How wondrously and marvelously made we are,

Birthed into this world, perfectly formed,

We crawl and walk and run through life

Arms outstretched and open wide

As if we were always born to fly.

By Kathie Adams Brown (March 15, 2015)

Common Terns, Chatham, MA 2011

Gray Day

Looking out the window panes

On a gray landscape;

Gray squirrels playing on gray tree trunks,

Gray sky waiting

Steel clouds billow and flatten

Dove skies bleed

Drops of liquid silver

Dull earth waits for water it cannot absorb

Gray birds sing in wet trees

Late winter rain turns gently to snow

And paints the world in white despair again.

Kathie Adams Brown (March 14, 2015)

Why are You Singing

Tufted Titmouse

Why are you singing, Mr. Titmouse?

Do you not know a blizzard is on the way?

I hear notes of romance

In your song this morning.

Are you declaring your territory,

Or enticing a mate?

It’ll be awhile yet before the nesting is begun,

But just to hear your song gives me hope

—that all is not lost

—that winter is not endless

—that crocuses will bloom again, and

—that somewhere under all that snow, there is, indeed, grass.

~Kathie Adams Brown (February 14, 2015)

Red Ribbons

Cardinals are the bright
red ribbons in the landscape
calling, "cheer, cheer, cheer"

Dark Shadows in the Trees

Grackles

Black shadows in the oak trees

Feathered lumps beneath russet leaves,

Do I really see you there

Or is my mind playing games?

Like dark thoughts in corners—will you stay,

Or fly away?

~kathie adams brown (November 3, 2014)

The Chimney Swifts are Gone

The chimney swifts are gone,

and they took their cheerful voices,

Instead,

I hear cicadas whine

With a sound that spells the end,

The sky is faded blue

By the blazing summer sun,

Maple leaves are tinged with red,

The first hint of the coming Fall,

The scent of new mown hay

Lies heavy in humid air,

It is the end of summer,

--the waning days of summer,

--I’ll say good-bye to summer,

Until it comes next year.

~Kathie Adams Brown (August 27, 2014)

I Would Fly Away With You

Have you ever seen a Purple Finch

dancing in the woods,

 a raspberry bird on a low branch,

sunlight streaming down,

chartreuse leaves a forming a bright frame

as he raises his crest to dance.

First he bobs and weaves,

raising one wing, then the other,

wings quivering with anticipation,

and where is she whom he is trying to woo?

Does her heart pitter patter like mine?

Does she know how marvelous it is to see him dance?

I stand here awestruck,

Wishing I were a bird.

I would fly away with you, fine fellow,

And we would make our nest!

~Kathie Adams Brown (May 12, 2014)

Down the Green Road

Down the green road I drive,

water on both sides,

seagulls wheeling overhead,

and then I see her glide,

black wings spread wide,

white head, white tail, yellow beak and feet,

talons stretched she lands

on prey in the green field,

 a picture of wildness as I drive,

on this green road,

this coastal road,

in the Maine countryside.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 30, 2014)

Today is the last day of National Poetry Month, and I just could not let it end without writing at least one new poem. This is inspired by my drive home from the town today when I saw a Bald Eagle land a nearby field. Click on the link below to see what other poets have done.

NaPoWriMo 2014

Timberdoodle Day

Twitter down, twitter down, tumble down flight,

Peenting, peenting in the gray light,

Spiral, spiral, catch a quick sight,

Rock-a-bird, rock-a-bird in the damp night.

~Kathie Adams Brown (April 10, 2014)

NaPoWriMo 2014

Morning on the Bay

Mere Point Bay, Brunswick, ME March 2014

The silver bay is flecked with gray, then blushes a soft pink,

The shining sun has just begun to rise above the drink,

And so the morning softly comes upon the silver bay,

And all the birds burst into song to welcome the new day.

~kathie adams brown (March 18, 2014)

Before the White-winged Dove Returns

White-winged Dove in my Tucson yard 4-13-2013

I will be gone before the White-winged Dove returns

Before the monsoon rains scent the desert air again;

I will not be here to see the lesser nighthawks slice through the twilight

Or hear the twittering chatter of purple martins in flight.

I will not see the cactus bloom this year,

painting the desert in a riot of color in spring

as Palo Verdes burst with yellow blossoms along tree lined streets.

There is no way to convey this desert landscape.

You must be here to smell the fragrance of creosote after the rains;

You have to stand on your patio on a moonlit night and feel the desert wind caress your legs

While the coyote chorus sings down the canyon and calls up the moon.

You must be here to hear the Cactus Wrens cackle on a hot summer’s day,

Or hear the Rock Wrens trill from the mountain slopes.

I will not be here when the white-winged dove returns to perch on saguaro blossoms,

But, I will know they are here.

I have seen them before and I will know they are here again—desert birds in a desert landscape

Rich with life and memories of things seen and done and still to be done

When the white-winged dove returns.

~kathie adams brown (January 28, 2014)

A Bright Beginning

In the morning light the feathered gem

hovers in the sparkles of the irrigation rain

bejeweled and bedazzled by sunlight and water

green feathers gathering light and reflecting it

back in a spray of color

and morning magic,

while I walk the dog in the neighborhood park—

a bright beginning to my day.

~kathie adams brown (January 28, 2014)

A Gift from Nature on Christmas Eve

Winter solstice is two days spent,

a half moon floats in the velvet dome of night,

I see Orion falling towards the western horizon,

a pale constellation over city lights.

Here in the desert the cool night breeze

wafts around my legs bare beneath my robe,

for I have run outside in response to the wild calls

of two great horned owls with romance in their hearts!

Love is in the air and on the rooftops of Tucson

on this Christmas Eve

I’m listening to the owl choir

as heaven and nature sing

on this not so silent night, this Holy Night,

I stand beneath Ursa Major

so thankful for this gift.

~Kathie Adams Brown (December 24, 2013)