Daylight’s Break

Light emerges from
windows, an invitation
to a new day.
Like condensation rising
from bright emerald grasses
to form steam, yesterday’s
thoughts disappear
into the air. No one is up yet
except those early morning
travelers whose slamming
car doors and woes were
enveloped in the early dark.
It will quiet a while longer
before everyone else notices
and politely accepts
this welcome to be warmed.

By JD DeHart

house with lighted windows


JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other publications. DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.

Current

The fast moving stream
has slowed to a dull lumbering
movement, the waters
shuffle and scuffle by, a calm
lull of sound

This is the place I held
on while we waded, unaware
of who I would be, what
life would bring

Dew on the grass, chirping
all around us, the lap
of water offering a constant
natural baptism.

By JD DeHart


JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other publications. DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.

Roses in the Fall

Don’t they know
that ice is on the way?
A distinct chill has hung
in the air like an azure
curtain all week long,
now they have bloomed,
petals that hopefully have
the fortitude to outlast blasts
of frigid air, responding
to the world with an
admirable tenacity.

By JD DeHart


JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other publications. DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.

Freshwater Cadence

I do not speak
the bubbling language
of fish underwater

I do not even speak
the language of the caster,
selecting lures, keeping
hooks out of low-hanging
branches

My voice is the one
that stands, wading, still,
right by the shore, watching
a school of waving shapes
float gently by.

By JD DeHart


JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other publications. DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.

Late Avalanche

Spring comes early this
year, showering Earth with buds,
after a waterless then smoke-filled
season, the sense of growth

Hopefully, there is no whirlwind
stirring, not a bank of snow
waiting silently around the corner,
plotting his swift assault

But if there is a snow to come,
all these sounds can be briefly
swallowed in muffled powder,
we will bud again.

By JD DeHart


JD DeHart is a writer and teacher. His poems have appeared in Gargouille and The Other Herald, among other publications. DeHart blogs at jddehartpoetry.blogspot.com.