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Poems by Grace Buller

Pine
Dang,
now I know why they call it pining.
it has the feel of sap and needles.
a small green standing
in a tall dark forest, dark
the wind can only whine through.
you send small creatures
they scurry by reminding me of you
I whisper gentle in their ear
as they carry off with the cones.
if you should walk a path alone
I hope they speak of me


Pine part II

The wind carried my seed to the ocean
there I swayed back and forth
sprayed with a fine mist
throughout the nights
I stretched my scrubby branches
and danced in the breeze
as the rhythm of Mother's heart
stirred up the sands below
I am not as deeply rooted
nor protected by surrounding
tall, over-shadowing pines
but sometimes less is more
as I move about free
a small song hums between
and even though I know
storms will pound at me
God, I love the view

Frequently...
I still my breath as
you silently float into my arms
burying yourself against me

We are the same in stature
yet you have coiled smaller somehow
to fit into the recesses of my being

As a warm wind, pushing rain sideways,
I think you pursue me
you will say I'm all wet

This feels too wonderful.
Snuggle in and rock
to the rhythm of my heart

Pretend

If I don't look you in the eye
If I stare straight ahead
while walking with you side by side
I'll still feel you,
you stir me
And we can talk about how live crickets
make good fish bait...
your easy outdoor laughter
will travel to me
in the wind
I will ignore your loneliness
struggle to be your friend
for this is what you ask of me
to stay in your warmth




Grace Buller at Kinspirit@aol.com says: "Currently, I'm writing a book of romantic poems of special appeal to women. A 50ish, late in life poet, I work as a security guard to put bread on the table and observe people moving through life. I enjoy setting a mood to verse. Grace's work has also been published in the literary e-zine www.SapphireMag.com and at Poems from Planet Earth

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