Longing

Longing for sunlit skies washed in gentle rain,
Rainbows gracing puffy white clouds pinned on a Madonna blue,
Blue dreams floating by,
By the lovely lonely thoughts of empty mind,
Minding nothing but attending all,
All encompassing but contained within,
Within my dreaming, longing.

Nancy France, May 1, 2013

Carried  in Hot Air Balloons

Oh, dear friends,

Come travel with me

And see the wider world,

We will fly and tread upon sunlit clouds

On air currents paved with sunbeams,

Carried in hot air balloons.

We will exclaim over the tree tops,

And complain of the traffic

When caught in flights of migrating birds

Traveling to more clement climes,

Carried in hot air balloons.

Eating peaches, mangoes and plums,

We’ll plant unlikely orchards,

Spitting the seeds over the sides

Like unexpected compliments

Carried in hot air balloons.

We’ll float in glowing silence, spun by humming webs

Filled with songs sung in joy,

Thrumming lines played by passing time

Filling empty spaces we’d never felt before,

Carried in hot air balloons.

We will sleep on moon-washed murmurs

Covered with hearts light as warm wishes

Flowering in swaths of loving beauty

Flowing over soft-aired dreams,

Carried in hot air balloons.

Oh, dear friends,

Come travel with me

And see the wider world,

We will fly and tread upon sunlit clouds

On air currents paved with sunbeams,

Carried in hot air balloons.

Nancy France,

 June 9, 2012

Running With the Wind

When I was very young,

I loved to run into the wind

And spread my arms to embrace it

Wanting to be caught up in its arms and thrown up

Into the air and be carried as in a parent’s arms

I wanted to catch hold of a cloud and swing there

Oh, how I loved t run.

As a girl, a little older,

I loved to run into the wind,

And spread my arms to enfold the wind

Wanting to catch it with outstretched arms

Arms held in just the right way to be supported by the wind

I wanted to dive into the sky and swim there

Oh, how I loved to run.

And as a young woman,

I would run rarely, aware of appearances,

Still, I spread my arms to capture the wind

In arms held in hopes of finding just the right angle

To hold a mountain of air in my arms,

I wanted to climb it, and be upheld there, in the sky.

Oh, how I loved to run

And now, an older woman,

I cannot run on legs unsteady walking

But I stand on stormy days with outstretched arms

Trying with aching arms to entreat the wind to fill them

To hold it in arms as a lover embraces a beloved.

I want it to carry me along, to travel to where it goes so fiercely.

Oh, how I would love to run with the wind once more

Nancy France

Autumn Comes In

Autumn comes in with blustery breath,

Huffing and puffing and making the trees talk,

Saying rude things and uttering regretful gasps,

As their leaves are plucked

One by one and by the dozen,

As the fruit of a summer’s labor is

Whisked away and shaken from their grasp.

So, be fussed and bedazzled

By Northern air and blue sky

And the colorful tatters of summer’s lace,

We work to gather the fallen fruit for winter’s living.

We stack the leaves in gathered piles to create spring’s promise

In their death and decay,

Before the next gust calls them to play in the wind

One last time before slumbering in Demeter’s embrace

But,

When winter at last comes to stay,

Sere and dry

Or wet and dank

Or frozen and still

We miss summer’s heat and rampant growth.

The breathy wonder of season’s change

Can make us sing and sigh.

September Sky

September Sky

It was a beautiful day to fly
through azure skies as deep as a tropical sea.
It must have drawn the eye
up to see and admire
the sight of sharp edged tower
against that infinite sky.

The air was so clear and filled with light
that you had to envy those
able to travel in buoyant flight,
‘til the comfort of the familiar wing
became unease, an incomprehensible thing
unfolding within our unwilling sight.

And when it hit and when it burned
a nation cried
a city yearned
for the safety of innocence lost
as every bad dream was tossed
within a lesson in terror too well learned.

Nancy France September 11, 2007

Silence

Silence

....is golden,

(so it is said)

Yet, sometimes,

the silence kept

hides secrets

that should,

instead,

be shouted.

Too often those secrets

keep only themselves safe.

They put their bearers

in danger by hiding

potential harm

too close to their keeper's

fragile heart and mind.

A secret silenced

is gold turned tarnished brass

a parasite living within

a worm hidden in a perfect rose.

Kept too close,

it smothers

the brightest flame of hope.

With no air or life,

it withers

bright wings

before potential flight.

Kept secrets can poison

Secret dreams.

Nancy France June 12, 2008

this poem may be used only with the expressed permission of the author

Missed Wishes

Missed Wishes

Outside I sat,
heated and embraced by my own salt tinged sheen,
when, I felt the lightest brush
of rain cooled air.
like a mother's kiss on fevered brow.

It took me aback,
this brush of angel wing,
the clean scent of water washed breeze,
and I turned my head,
I closed my eyes,
trying to connect again
with the tender brushed embrace.

But, like too many loves
it left me unsettled and wishing,
wondering why it was
and then was
no more.

Then, when the promise of showered gust
fell hard and reached with damp fingers
for me,
I was inside.

I missed the rendevous.

As I understood the kiss,
for an invitation to dance with the wind
and leap into its cooling grasp,
to release my heat into its captivity.

But, like too many loves
I left it too late and unsettled,
wondering why I took
of its free gift
nothing.

I heard the rain fall without me.
Part of me wanting to be within,
part of me yearning to be without,
wrapped in, and wearing a rainbow,of wishes unfulfilled.