Poetry

By Stephen R. Gorton


Walking with You

I left my work
to walk
snow paths with you.
Our feet
marked satin sounds
beneath
a crystal blue,
the sharp air sweet
to breathe. I touched
a frosted tree
branch, smiling
as white flakes fell
(How small
yet delightful
brief joys can be!)
like stars
to tangle in
your hair.
Coming back to
tasks undone,
I’m glad I left
my work to walk
with you,
the growing years
so short and few
when beauty can
be shared
with a small son.

The Gathering

“The noise of the multitude in the mountains like as of a great people, a tumultuous noise of the kingdoms of nations gathered together, the Lord of Hosts mustereth the hosts of the battle” (2 Ne. 23:4).

What a sunrise day!
Diffusion of the gray.
Grand unconfused
gathering now due
for royal review.
They come,
holding high every banner
and soaring color of experience,
all pushing for
the apex.
They come,
unfurling finally highest hopes,
waving widely all known noble dreams.
Such gung-ho intent so
gustily shown!
Last dust of old
allegiances is blown
easily away
in bracing,
staying breeze
of truth.

Against Gray Skies

Would that all my life may be a time
of dignity, edged with humor, with sharing—
like a tree with roots deep and dependable,
able to withstand drought.
Dressed always in whimsy of seasons
from fragile gold-greens of spring
all lacy and laughing,
to shade-maker greens of summer.
Finally my brief span of autumn
allows longed-for color.
Winter limbs will still reach upward,
graceful brush marks
against gray skies.
Even when spring
does not bring back leaves,
empty branches can provide
a perch for nesting birds.

[photo] Electronic imaging by Charles M. Baird