Monday, October 18, 2010

Hidden

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Layers crust the earth and rocks
hiding what the chisel knows.
Time marks trees with circled rings
the proof of their existence.

We dig and chip away
hoping we will find somewhere
in the root of our beginnings . . .
that moment
that one glorious moment
when the first Being stood and
shouted to the stars . . ."Aha"!!
and knew that there was more.

We will not find that moment
in our diggings anywhere,
nor in any rock or tree recorded
No . . .
that sound,
that first illumination
did not plant itself beneath his feet.

It traveled, racing
through the stars of the great night sky
straight across the heavens
and there it found
beyond the darkness waiting . . .
the wild expectant heart of God!


Joanne Cucinello 2010

Thursday, October 7, 2010

October Song

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Vibrant crystal days
of autumn sunshine
lift my spirits once again
and call me past my window
to the color feast outside.
There's no place like
New England in the fall!

Crisping furls of frenzy
decorate the path
before me as I walk
and breathe my life today.
"Let go . . . Let go"
say the trees.

They are giving up
their leaves again
the verdant gift
and canopy of shade
I welcomed so this
summer.

Now with brilliant
sunlit tones of fire
the leaves begin their litany
of au revoirs with beauty
unrivaled even
by their birth in spring.

Toppling swirls burst and
crunch beneath my happy feet
ignoring the fact that
soon enough I'll wake bedraggled by
the thought of digging out those
long toothed rakes growing
cobwebs in the shed.

Joanne Cucinello 2009

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Yours To Live

mother and child Pictures, Images and Photos
Flesh and blood are we . . .

from your beginnings in my womb,
flesh and blood are we.
Marked and linked forever, our DNA
the signature that binds us
not erasable, you and I . . . my child.

Flesh and blood are we . . .

tinged with colors handed down
from those who came before us
a pool of genes translucent
a miracle in the making.

My flesh and blood, my heart . . .

even though our eyes see differently,
even though you dance a different dance
and what you yearn for I can't see.
Your precious life is yours to live . . .
as even I did mine.

Joanne Cucinello 2010

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