April Snow

Icy blast
April snow
Cruel truth
Cancel hope
Winter coat
Buy a scarf
Collar up
Trudge along
To the car
Blast of wind
Up the skirt
Defrost on
Blowing air
Static cling
Fuzzy hair
Spring all gone
Fist to sky
Shaking fist
Screaming “Why”!
Sick of boots
Hate the cold
Wonder when
This will end?

© Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 23, 2015

I wanted an electric blanket.

You gave me a butter dish.

With my electric blanket
I would have snuggled
In my warm bed and slipped
Off to sleep in healing comfort
During our endless subzero winter nights

But you gave me a butter dish
And, let’s see, what will I do
With it since I already have 6 other
Butter dishes

I guess I will put butter in it.

Thanks, so much.
It’s lovely.

© Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 22, 2015

SPRING IS MOVING THROUGH

The wind blew
The garbage from
The next-door neighbor’s can
(That he always leaves open
Despite my annoyance)

Across the road
An old bed pillow
Randomly rests in the
Grass beside the parking lot
Soaking up the rain

Several paper plates
Are pressed up against a tree
With remnants of lasagna
Caked on and an empty pickle jar
Rolls noisily down the pavement

Pushed along with no
Apparent destination.
A pizza box sails by and
A greedy Beagle traps
A plastic bag of meat scraps
In its teeth

As he looks side to side
Making a beeline
To wherever he hides his stash
And an empty Oscar Mayer Bologna package
Spins by, skittering along the street

The wind blew
Over the potted plant on the front step
And rolled up the out door carpet on my porch
And tore the wind catcher off
The bottom of my wind chimes.

A cold front is coming through
Tossing out the warmth of yesterday
It gives and it takes
It takes and gives as
Spring is moving through

By Diane E. Dockum

ROSES AFTER THREE DAYS

I loved the roses.
Now the petals
curl and brown.
The aroma thickens
and grows pungent,
and still
their faded beauty recalls
the bloom
of sudden pleasure
and of new unfolding hope.
And though the water
clouds and diminishes
in the vase
it still nourishes the stems
that gently sip
at the dregs
seeking more.

by Diane E. Dockum
© 2015

Let Darkness Fall

Let the sun go down
Let the shadows crawl across the lawn
As the supper dishes are washed
Let the kitchen go black

Let the bedclothes be turned back
And the teeth be cleaned
Let the quiet weave its way
Through the house, and the lamps be lit

Let the curtains be closed
As the street lights come on
And the bats fly out of the vacant house
On the corner lot four houses down

Let the bank and the post office
Sit in the dark, and the phones
Go unanswered
Let them leave a message

Let darkness fall and the Whippoorwill call
When the children are bathed
And settle the babies with stories read
Aloud from the side of the bed

Let darkness fall
Let the crows in the trees
Tuck their heads under wings
And the moon beam her pale white face

On the surface of the pond
Let the sky fade to black
And the stars appear
Let the world turn around

While your eyes are closed
Let sleep come, give in
And let dreams sort the day
Let darkness fall

©Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 18, 2015

It’s my lunch hour
So I walk up the sidewalk
To the café slash bakery
And as I do, the wind picks up
And I notice my jacket
Does not really fit anymore
It fails to close properly now
I think about the heaviness
In my legs as I walk
And sand blows around me
Peppering my face and eyes
But I don’t really care
Because the snow has gone
And once where towering snow banks loomed,
There are now only street and cement.
I pass the burned out remains
Of an apartment building
Still smelling the cinders
Even though it was the depth of winter
When it burned
The blackened broken glass
From the windows
Fills the gutter near the sidewalk
There are remnants of catastrophe
Lying strewn about
Someone has painted “Ash Hoe”
On the wall in the alley
I see the sub shop is busy as usual
As I turn the corner
And head to the bakery
My mind is on idle
And my glasses have turned dark
In the sunshine
I am glad I have the day off
Tomorrow
Fridays have at least
That one blessing

© Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 17, 2015

Oh dreaded blank page
Obstinate space
Selfish keeper of words
I fleer at thee

Over your surface
I will scatter words
To fill your emptiness
With symbols of sound

The eye will see
And transmit unspoken
The meaning of the tangle of
Obscure thoughts within my mind

© Diane E. Dockum, 2015
April 16, 2015

The clouds
Are moving

Imperceptible
Unless you stare

Curling in on
Themselves

Some so heavy
You wonder what

Holds them up
They move away

From the sun
And I think

Maybe the heat
Is evaporating them

At one end
As they run the other way

Leaving invisible trails
Of vapor

Excerpt From: Diane E. Dockum. “Just Beyond The Hill.”
© 2008