Poetry

By Phyllis Reed
A Leaf Encounter
Resting in the dirty snow
A glow of sudden brilliance.
A fallen leaf in mid-winter
Robed in its bright hues,
Orange and red flames of fall.

How beautiful it could be
Sleeping on a bed of white snow.
Kneeling with outstretched hand
This supple gem passed to a new site,
A bright leaf exquisite on sparkling snow.

A photographer’s vision of uniqueness
Followed the leaf to its new site.
Different angles of light played on its surface
And as the photographer hesitated,
A winter breeze freed the fallen leaf.

Adorned in her bright colors of fall
The leaf danced with the wind on their path.
A momentary encounter not imagined,
A glimpse of unexpected beauty,
That would not be captured. _____________________________________________________ It Doesn't By Phyllis Reed (02.28.2021) It doesn't take much snow to brighten a winter bank. It doesn't take much wind to move a blade of grass. It doesn't take much ice to make a wet bridge slick. It doesn't take much sunshine to make a diamond on a puddle. It doesn't take much cloudcover to make a shadow on a path. But the world is changed. How much compassion does it take to lift another's spirit? How much kindness does it take to lighten another's day? How much abuse does it take to destroy a child's trust? How much vulnerability does it take to hide a sorrow? How much energy does it take to share beauty with a friend? How much is the world changed? It doesn't take much effort for the world to change. It changes all the time. And, It takes only a moment to notice. How much time does it take to create a Life of compassion? It takes only this moment, and this moment, and this one. How much is the world changed?
The River Speaks
By Phyllis Reed (12.27.20)

Listen closely the river speaks.
Sometimes it’s raging
Sometimes just a whisper.
The deeper it runs
The clearer is its voice.

And what of humans
Are our voices similar?
The river becomes our metaphor.
Lean in close and listen
To ancient wisdom’s call.

Crashing on the surface rocks
Emotions create rage.
Stones of Life seem hard and sharp.
As we resist their crossing
We choose to suffer long.

The river runs on toward the deep
Its flow becomes its whisper.
It has no need to suffer long.
Our rocks are just the call of pain
They have not come to stay.

The river creates continuous flow
It will not stand in rage.
Our hearts can choose the very same.
Emotions splash and often speak
Listen, let them pass.

The quiet of the moving river
Now resting in our deep.
The mind reflects our troubled times.
Emotions announce our pain.
Wisdom flows in whispers.