It’s National Poetry Day!

To celebrate, here’s a poem I wrote some years ago, reflecting on a senior German shorthaired pointer we’d adopted.

The Rescued

Of what are you dreaming now, Schatzi, my love?
What fields do you roam as you run in your sleep?
What prompts you to bark in your slumber, old girl?
What pain remembered elicits a whine?

Of whom are you dreaming now, Schatzi, my love?
Whom do you guard with that unconscious snarl?
What hand rubs the tummy that, sleeping, you bare?
Whose voice do you struggle, unhearing, to hear?

Did they love you, I wonder, as you had loved them?
Did they see you as sibling or child?
Or were you but a tool, now crippled with age,
Tossed aside like a worthless old gun?

Why were you wandering, Schatzi, my love?
Why did they not seek you, though treasure you are?
Why are you sleeping beside me tonight
And not with the ones who so long owned your heart?

Copyright © 2007 Elisabeth G. Wolfe. All rights reserved.

Yellowstone, 2000: An Allegory

Yellowstone new growthTwelve years have passed since the fires came.
The burned-out lodgepoles tower still,
Standing like ghosts too proud to fall
’Til a strong wind comes and lays them low.
I remember this forest from long ago,
When I was a child and the trees were old.
Now the sun comes further down
Past the ashen pillars of yesteryear
And shines upon a brighter green
Of new, young trees that grow so thick
The scars upon the mountainsides
Are black no more, but green again.
The pines grow slowly, and some will die
Before they reach their fathers’ heights—
The porcupine’s girdle is fatal yet—
But still they push toward the sky,
Each needle aglow with the thrill of life.

Poem © 2007 Elisabeth G. Wolfe. Photo © 2000 William D. Wolfe III. All rights reserved.

Verses from a weary heart

I was debating asking friends for some encouragement this morning, but then this poem I wrote a few years back popped into my head. So since it’s more blessed to give than to receive, and since it suits the season as well, here’s hoping it’ll bring some encouragement your way. 🙂

Sunrise Serenade

There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.
—G. K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

Each morning, while the world is still
At daybreak, from my windowsill
There comes a cheerful sparrow’s trill:
The night has gone, the day is come.

Whatever trials lie ahead,
Whatever dreary chores I dread,
Still pipes the sparrow by my bed,
The night has gone, the day is come.

Sometimes in bed I long to stay
To rest my head and heart all day
And listen to the roundelay:
The night has gone, the day is come.

O Lord of Hosts, Whose lowly birth
Proclaims my more than sparrow’s worth,
Sustain my heart with holy mirth
’Til Night has gone and Day is come.

Copyright © 2007 Elisabeth G. Wolfe. All rights reserved.

It’s National Poetry Month!

And since, as my mom put it, “spring has sproingggged” at their house with the first iris of the season, here’s a smidgen of poetry I wrote a few years back in memory of my grandmother:

Iris Lover’s Catalogue

I see her tending her name-flower beds
In summers past beyond recall
And wonder what she would have thought
Of hybrid blues and whites and pinks
With names that sizzle, sparkle, sing—
Millennium Falcon, Abbey Road,
Hello Darkness, Pagan Dance—
Or if the same old purple stock
Would still have been enough for her.

Copyright © 2007 Elisabeth G. Wolfe. All rights reserved.