Bev Tappan

Category: Seasonal Poems

Always an observer of the changing days

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: SPRINGTIME IN THE NOTCHES

    Springtime in the Notches

    We should have known what April fools

    This winter was to make of us.

    It piled the snow up to our roofs

    While Arctic winds assaulted us.

    We looked in vain for signs of spring,

    For daffodils and crocuses,

    But now in May it’s happening:

    The woods are where the action is.

    Below these west-wind-blocking cliffs

    Beneath their blanket of dry leaves

    Shy yellow violets persist

    And Dutchman’s breeches are perceived.

    Where phoebes and song sparrows peck

    The squirrel corn plants its fruity roots.

    Wake robin trillium are on deck.

    Hepatica promises liver cures.

    Dogtooth violets belie their name.

    Spring beauties herald what has come

    At last, unnoticed, unproclaimed,

    Our longed-for time of procreation.

  • TAMWORTH POEM: SPRING FEVER

    SPRING FEVER

    The sap is rising and the stallion rears

    To clap his mighty hoofs upon the mare’s

    Frisky rump, but she whisks away

    As if inviting him to come and play

    And he is game.  Off and away they go.

    It is the season that does stir the blood,

    The time when every river is in flood,

    And my old heart is gladdened by the show.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: SIGNS OF SPRING

    SIGNS OF SPRING

    (with thanks to e e cummings)

    Ice-melt upstream is roiling up the river

    That foams and funnels under the village bridge.

    Two feet of ice on Lake Winnepesaukee

    Is starting to give way at the water’s edge.

    Last week I heard the “cuckoo” of a phoebe

    And tree frogs seeking mates with choral peeps

    Along with “quarking” lately de-iced wood frogs

    And redwinged blackbirds buzzing in the reeds.

    Indeed it is Just spring.  I also hear

    The sound of children laughing in the playground,

    And listening with an attentive inner ear

    The goat-footed balloon man calling me.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL

    ON THE FIRST DAY OF APRIL

    As they circle and soar

    In wide leisurely glides

    The western sun silvers

    Their wings’ undersides:

    Four ebony vultures

    On a springtime patrol

    Back from the southlands

    To clean up our roads

    While a pale full moon

    On the eastern horizon

    Rises to bestow

    A benevolent benison

    And at the small pond

    Two redwings chatter

    To welcome the emergence

    Of ice-free water.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON THE LAST DAY OF MARCH

    ON THE LAST DAY OF MARCH

    The wind has wielded a brush and comb

    To tease the clouds in all directions

    Extracting fragile transparent film,

    Wafting it over an azure canvas.

    Stubborn diminishing drifts of snow

    Persist in sullen sordid ranks

    Along the gravel encrusted roads,

    Reluctant to cede their prominent place

    However much we wish them gone.

    Meanwhile the red capped finches have come

    To check out the top of my tall blue spruce

    The site of their last year’s nest and brood,

    And the first two turkey vultures arrive

    To circle above the neighborhood:

    I will lift up mine eyes for signs of spring.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: TRANSITION

    TRANSITION

    Here on the cusp of spring

    The foxy Prince of Darkness

    Will retreat to his lonesome lair

    Leaving the fair Persephone

    To soften the icy winds

    And water the snowbanks down.

    March has come in like a lion

    And is leaving like T Rex.

    Polar glaciers dissolve:

    The cold descends to us.

    We cheer to see the grass

    Emerge from rotting snow.

    The jay and the chickadee lisp

    Their piece to potential mates.

    But Persephone will do well

    To free us from winter’s clutch.

    The light at the end of the tunnel

    MAY be the summer’s sun

    And Persephone MAY return

    To her darksome winter home.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: COLD COMFORT

    COLD COMFORT

    I heard that flannel nightgowns

    Are no longer to be found

    In Target or in Wal-Mart

    So I looked to Amazon

    And luckily they still offer

    In every size and color

    A plethora of nighties.

    From autumn into spring I

    Snuggle into scarlet flannel

    Bedecked with caroling cats

    Worn over lycra tights.

    Nothing there is more comforting

    On cold and cheerless nights.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: WILDFIRE SEASON

    WILDFIRE SEASON

    As summer ends we keep our eyes

    On the ground for signs of fire.

    Blueberry bushes blush unseen,

    Sumac turns to red from green.

    Scarlet ivies start to wreathe

    Tongues of flame around the trees.

    In the bogs swamp maples flare

    Showing off their autumn wear.

    Corner woodlots then ignite,

    Captivate us with their light.

    Yellow beech and tawny oak:

    In morning mists they seem to smoke.

    In the end we lift our eyes

    To blazing hills and mountain heights.

  • TAMWORTH POEMS: LIFE IS A FARMERS’ MARKET

    May brings the seedlings: parsley, sage

    Thyme and rosemary frail and green,

    Eggs of all sizes, turkey to quail,

    Ruby red radishes crunchy and sweet,

    The wild curled fronds of fiddlehead ferns,

    Lambs’ quarters, dandelion leaves.

    For rhubarb’s tangy sauce we yearn,

    New peas, garlic, onions, chives.

    Summer’s bounty is succulent corn,

    Heritage tomatoes and summer squash.

    Young carrots, beets and broccoli are borne

    To the growing family’s midday repast.

    New potatoes, yams and turnips appear.

    With the sweetness of berries the meal is crowned

    Before the table is finally cleared,

    The dishes washed, the family gone.

    The produce of fall is all about

    Preparing for frost: sweet or hard cider,

    Local beer, ales and stout,

    Grapes and berries transmuted to wines.

    Ripened root vegetables are stored.

    Preserves, pickles and relishes keep

    The taste of summer in our mouths

    Throughout the winter’s long cold sleep.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: SNOW DAY

    SNOW DAY

    We welcome snow:

    Flakes falling slow,

    Concealing our tracks,

    Covering our backs.

    No place to go,

    No rows to hoe,

    The world’s gone white.

    We’re sitting tight.

    We hope it snows

    All day, all night.

    (January 2, 2014)

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: EPIPHANY

    EPIPHANY

    Veiled by thickly falling snow,

    Winter robins come and go.

    From my window I can see

    Them flocking in the tall pear tree.

    Startled by the passing plow,

    Scattering in a frantic cloud,

    Flitting, fluttering, never still,

    They seldom pause to eat their fill.

    Off the roof a sudden gust

    Convinces them they’ve had enough.

    I wish them luck, I wish, “God Speed!”

    I hope they find sustaining seed.

    I’m glad I’ve had this chance to know

    Winter robins in the snow.

    (January 2, 2014)

  • REUTEMANN ROAD POEMS: SHARDS

    STUDY IN BLACK AND WHITE

    Shards chatter as I brush past ice-encrusted

    Branches that glitter like the Snow Queen’s chandeliers.

    Silicon-coated skeletons, trees crack

    Overhead.  I break into a run, my footprints

    Paralleling those of deer.  The snow is pockmarked

    By glass bullets.  Cedars weighted down

    With ermine furs kowtow to the north wind.

    Our fish pond is a bottomless black tarn,

    The lair of whitehaired trolls long in the tooth.

    An albino whale, the shape of Ahab’s paranoia,

    Drowned him in sunless watery darkness.

    Our bones recall an age when glaciers flowed

    Like lava from volcanoes, stiffening life

    In diamond-sequined winding shrouds.