New England November

Tail end of autumn
the in-between time
bare maples branches
dry leaves scuttle

A young bear pushes his nose
into heaped up leaves
poking through for acorns
coyotes howl late afternoon
once twilight falls
barred owls call right up
until bed time

The land reads browns and greys
scattered red berries
puckered purple grapes.
Winter hasn’t emerged yet,
although she’s expected.
Garden plots are groomed
in anticipation of her arrival.

Like the tide line between sand and sea
November separates the seasons
of life pushing out of seed and egg,
then returning to ground
November holds her cards close
taking her time
waits for those last geese to fly

Listen to the water ripple against the shore
and honor Manannán mac Lir
I have not gold to skillfully beat into form
but I put an offering into to the water

By Elaine Reardon

small gold boat and cup

The gold boat is one of the gold objects from the Broighter Hoard found in Broighter, Co. Derry. It may have been an offering to the sea god, Manannán mac Lir. The photo of the gold boat is from The National History Museum in Dublin Ireland.frosted leaves


Book coverElaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and a member of the Society of Children’s BookAuthor Photo Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MASS Poet of the Moment, and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com

Photo of frosted leaves by the author

Snake

Cool September mornings
small snake wriggled
under the old screen door
a little misaligned
to warm herself
on the aluminum
sill between
the two doors
when I opened the
storm door
to warm the room
She’d slide gracefully,
out the corner
after she’d drape
on the stoop
or glide under
the porch
into darkness.

two days later
an empty snake skin
coiled on the porch was
left like a thank you card

By Elaine Reardon

snake skin on porch


Book coverElaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and a member of the Society of Children’s BookAuthor Photo Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MASS Poet of the Moment, and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com

Photo by the author

River Night

We float in Rio Caliente
and consider the stars.
We swim slowly now and then,
our muscles and bones soak in warmth.
    My daughter leaves us
disapproving of older women skinny dipping,
laughing together at midnight.
we talk about Ireland and
share old stories of the troubles.
    Obsidian hills surround us here,
the jacarandra tree is heavy with purple bloom.

By Elaine Reardon

steam rises from warm water in river


Book coverElaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and a member of the Society of Children’s BookAuthor Photo Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MASS Poet of the Moment, and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com

Photo by the author

Vernal Pool

  From ice melt to mayflies
to frogs splashing
and whirligig beetles
that dance circles
foxglove stands sentry

you shine in dappled light
call life to you
call fireflies in the dusk
midwife spring into summer.
 

dried fern and maple conceals shallow
pool for remaining salamanders
crickets sing in cold nights
damp hidden spirit
rises to meet air and shadow.

Under shooting stars
in a sky that flings
diamonds this moonless night
you are bowl of soft white snow
empty and full
like my heart.

By Elaine Reardon

small pond in spring


Elaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MASS Poet of the Moment, and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com

Photo of small pond in spring by Rudmer Zwerver

Maria Elena In Brooklyn

You could tell me about the baby carriages wheeled
to cafes, bookshops, and parks,
subway rides to anywhere,
espresso, wine, teas, anything you want
because it’s all outside your door.

I could tell you how sharply the mint bites the tongue,
how sweetly the violet mingles with rose petals,
and how bitter the bite of dandelion greens.
I could tell you to watch the thorns
when you reach for the raspberries.

You could tell me how traffic hums
past your building, never stopping.
Music blares from the small restaurant,
outside tables slip around the corner of the street.

We listen for the sound of the barred owls in the late afternoon
and watch the grass shiver when a mouse slips through.
Maria, hold the sweet fern to your nose
just outside my door.

By Elaine Reardon


Book coverElaine is a poet, herbalist, educator, and a member of the Society of Children’s BookAuthor Photo Writers & Illustrators. Her chapbook,The Heart is a Nursery For Hope, published September 2016, recently won first honors from Flutter Press as the top seller of 2016. Most recently Elaine’s poetry has been published by Three Drops from a Cauldron Journal, MASS Poet of the Moment, and poetrysuperhighway.com. Elaine lives tucked into the forest in Central Massachusetts and maintains a blog at elainereardon.wordpress.com