Poetry

The Wedding

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Time suspended itself by yielding to a forbidden wedding. Moon drew water from dark clouds to quench her thirst. Sun so burnt the edges of her heart, they no longer existed as Sun and Moon or anything the galaxies had ever before witnessed. As they lay under heaven’s canopy, she whispered in his ear, “Close your eyes, I’ve a treat for you.” She placed one snow cone within the innermost core of his heart to quench his desire during the midday heat. He was much pleased with such a remembrance, and replied,“Now close your eyes, I’ve a wedding gift for you too.” After a few moments, he said, “Open them,” for he had carved a blood red talisman upon her heart, the inside of which slow-burned the fire of his longing. She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Throughout this night, changeling stars gave birth to fill the unspeakable void when once again, Sun would vanish into dawn.

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

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As each season passes, I wait; First winter, then spring, then hot languid summer months praying autumn leaves fall so close to my feet I can easily reach down and touch, but this morning raindrops dissolve upon my soul like rare cashmere. The greatest part of any day is waking up to the flow of life’s drum beat, another haiku morning. Just once I would like to pour myself into a long stem ice cream sundae glass and sip the whole of dawn until it sets once again.
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

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jennifer brookins poem

I mourn the loss of winter still amongst us, snow cones still hanging on evergreens like Tibetan monks paying homage in silent meditation; snowflakes falling in love one more time, weightless without regard to where they fall. These cold silvery days make me long for the smell of hay; farmers tilling soil and little birds on the look-out for a better feathering neighborhood. It is a feeling I’ve come through something heavy and survived. Yet, even when spring arrives there is a part of me that can’t let go of chilly moonlit nights and vagrant stars streaking across the galaxy. I’m hopeless. © 2020 Jennifer Brookins

GOOD MORNING INDIA

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I miss the giant scrubs, the ones who love-swayed in the midnight hour as though our back yard was a ball room for waltzing oaks. In my darkest hour, you gave refuge to my soul while I sat under your merciful bough and wept in my never-ending fruitless search for the me of myself. I felt your laughter when I lamented, “You and I are so alike; both of us look better with clothes on.” Come quickly spring.
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

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Lowness of high grass bows to earth’s surface in remembrance of better times when the great storm grabbed lightening by the waist, and danced with her the night away before the rising sun made his presence known. How shall I paint this day? Spring lifts her skirt as winter chills act as stewards in my garden.
© Jennifer Brookins

Hello World

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Night beckons me to lie down in the high grass, arms outstretched over my head towards a lantern glowing on a farmer’s back porch; his dog barks at the least little thing. I hold close a throbbing mother earth who patiently awaits her progeny; my face turned upwards to the infinity of stars in the Milky Way twinkling as shards of mirrored glass.

© Jen Brookins

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Oh Weaver,

In heaven’s darkness, solstice was a reckoning, no tear ever so lonely as shed by winters moon drawing heat from midday sun into her aura, pronounced her loneliness; sleeps this night in the berth of heaven’s darkness, all manner of nomads on earth’s floor pay homage to sea and sky, owls, grey wolves, seahorses, and a bowl of tomatoes ripe from loving from lowly vegetable kingdom overcome their differences, sit together in silence, their heads bowed low, pass no judgment nor devour each other, It pleases you greatly to perform this miracle. Without warning fierce winds blow throughout the kingdom and the four earthly species become sightless, forbidden wedding between sun and moon has no witness, time suspends itself for this auspicious occasion. Her longing finds no respite in nights hush, sun consumed by her nearness carves a red talisman upon her heart inside of which slow burns his ecstasy as they lay within each other under canopied sky filled with changeling stars she whispers in his ear,

“Beloved, close your eyes I’ve a wedding gift for you.” moon places a snow cone inside his heart to quench his thirst during scalding midday heat.

such was the birth of dawn.

Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins