Sleep

    In her slow breaths I see

The Tasmanian devil tamed

The whirlwind roped by its tail

Her continuous movement,

While fluid and confident, is halted.

    She would shudder to know

I am watching, memorizing,

Her lashes low, crystalline eyes veiled

The lines of her nose, jaw line and cheeks.

In uncommon silence, she reposes.

No furrowed brows, only peace.

She is beautiful when she sleeps.

 

Catherine Schmidt

 

 

 

.

Winter Thaw

In shivering delight, arriving at the door

Shrouded in layers of wool and fleece

Greeted by his fiery presence

His hands know what hides beneath this stratum

With agonizing strength he peels the layers away

For I am an onion, weeping at my body's joy

As he cuts away to my center.

Moving together effortlessly,

The melting snow carving channels into itself

His silken bandana wound about my wrists

His willing prisoner, and bound to him

He is melting the ice walls within me

As he takes what he can;

I give all I have, knowing that when he leaves

The hoarfrost will return to my heart.

Catherine Schmidt

Prairie Cemetery

If there be memories here,

Echoes of the past long ago silenced;

then they exist in the quiet whispers

of the rustling cottonwood leaves.

 

If there be a thought that lingers on,

a moment's ingenuity still considered;

then it is imbedded in the stems

of the golden rockets and pasque flowers here.

 

This gentle square of prairie, rough unbroken sod,

bears witness to a past which most have forgotten.

A lonely lilac guards a leaning stone,

drawing its branches in a protective embrace.

Root bound flowers encircle falling stones,

remnants of grief and a harder time.

 

If there be memories or thoughts here,

visions and ingenuity that linger on.

They are embedded in the depths

of my hardened country soul.

I have not forgotten.

 

Catherine Schmidt