Little Showers (Poem)

Little trickles of tiny rivers,
All droplets falling like a gods thundering laughter,
Frozen diamonds glinting in the dull sun,
These are the first mornings of true Spring.


When little mirrors shine the brilliance,
Of the seasons subtlety all around,
Spring is not a warm time,
Spring is not a dry time,


She is that slight rosy cheeked maiden,
Embarrassed for wearing a too thin slip,
That keeps none of the cold in,
Promising all with her cheap modesty.


And yet her green nature is not meant to excite,
All she does is frolic and play,
The lambs learning and knowing,
That the small sunbeams reflected


In the rains eyes, show the first blossoms,
Of this years Rainbow crop.




Mirrorchild (Poem)


My mirrorchild
My darker half
inexplicably linked in love
for our sun,
Our lord.
Bathed in his light
I grow brighter
I grow stronger every day

My mirrorchild,
My darker half
watching from the shadows
cursing that he be mine

Sometimes mirrors can be magic,
A doorway
A portal to another world mayhaps
I touch its cold smooth surface and

My darker half the light
And I the shadow?
Diminuished, dwindling, dying
She has my flame, she has my love
Who knew,
I was the mirrorchild all along