











Day Eleven of NaPoWriMo.*
Today’s prompt:
“write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings. “
And so:
You push through winter-hardened earth;
herald of spring, though
late winter snow lingers.
A peek of green, soon a finger,
then – when next I think to look –
the golden trumpet atop a slender stem.
Whipped by feisty winds,
assailed by torrent rains,
flattened by a boisterous spring, and I
speculate that you lost your gamble
in being first to show. But
you rise again, regal as ever…
defiant, daring daffodil!

NaPoWriMo Day Ten.*
“Today’s prompt is to write a hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince Gotera , the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words.”
Short and sweet. Don’t blink:
flower
bed spring
pokes through surface

Day 25 of NaPoWriMo.
Today’s Prompt:
Taking a cue from John Keats’ poem, “To Autumn,” write a poem that (a.) is specific to a season; (b.) uses imagery that relates to all five senses; (c.) includes a rhetorical question, like Keats’ “where are the songs of spring?”
I’m so enjoying the warmer weather of late, and all the greenery, I couldn’t imagine writing about any season other than Spring.

In increments imperceptible to most,
light of day expands, hours of dark recede,
and life erupts from warming soil;
sprung from damp earth, a geyser of green,
gushing through garden and bramble and lawn,
flowing up trees, pushing sap as it surges,
splitting through soft bark of branches and twigs,
spewing leaves and blooms when at last it emerges.
While Steller’s jays gather moss for their nests,
the smaller scrub jay and a petulant crow
vie for clear title to raspiest call; and
collared doves hide in tall trees, and echo:
who Whoo who, who Whoo who.
Who planted the bulbs shooting up through the duff?
sacheted hyacinth, tulip and dainty blue bell,
bouquets laced with pungent rosemary sprigs,
and laid atop carpets of soft lemon basil;
as dandelions and dead nettle wait to serve tea.
Day Seven of NaPoWriMo. The prompt:
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of gifts and joy. What would you give yourself, if you could have anything? What would you give someone else?
What better gift than nature?

Spring’s blanket of blooms
spreading of it’s own accord
Gaia arises


