This is a day born

budding maple tree sings back

to birds nesting in her hair.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

In spring, the rain coming down

out of impending clouds

causes fleeing crowds

to duck under roofs in town,

or under the hovering wings of gulls.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

The grass stitched the dunes

into a patchwork quilt of ridges

which the eye can cross as bridges.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

Looking out through

the tall dune grass

the little gray fox saw me

coming up his path.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

When the bird flew off

the chimney top looked bare

in the morning sun.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

Red robin chirpings

lift the lighthouse deep resoundings

on the edge of bay.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

Morning comes and clings

still as an old snow owl

before the rush of wings.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

Wind songs so lightly

over the waves of morning

tip the wings of gulls.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

The dune felt wind

in sand and grass

blowing the grit away

from my wandering mind.

-Barbara Stoughton

 

There is a time in life

when long icicles freeze and chill

yet there is light in ice.

-Barbara Stoughton

Barbara Stoughton is a resident of Penick Village in Southern Pines who processes the experiences of aging and of living in a retirement home through verse. One of her goals is to transport readers to her beloved outdoors. Appropriately, Stoughton’s ten poems this month were set at Cape Cod.