In My Backyard

The trees have stories to tell
But they say not a word
They stand perfectly straight
until the breeze comes by
to coax their tales from them

Gently first
their leaves will tingle
shiver slightly with memories

Then the wind picks up
Their branches sway
discussing with their neighbors
gossip of the day
They giggle in delight

That is until
a gale descends with force
that bends their trunks
as branches scream
in all directions

You hear them
pouring out their hearts
their fears
You hear them scream
in torment "remember, remember when..."

Oh wait...
maybe that was me 

-- Arlyn Serber
The watery light calls me
and the drumming of rain
pushes me.  The kitchen
ingredients wait to be blended.
As I watch the hillside
reddening with the rising sun
and hours later
reddening with the lowering sun
my mind settles, too,
ready for evening
and the changes that come,
that draw me back to the dream,
to the irresistible mystery
of the almost understood.

  Turning a Train of Thought Upside Down, an anthology, Spring, 2012
  Continuum, a Song Cycle, Bruce Nalezny, 2013
-- Nellie Hill