September 13, 2017

Three Poems by Lynda McKinney Lambert: "Along the Road," "White Snakeroot," and "Autumnal Mornings"

In the fall of 2008, Lynda McKinney Lambert retired from her teaching career at Geneva College, Beaver Falls, PA where she was Professor of Fine Arts and Humanities. She now divides her days between writing, knitting and creating mixed-media fiber art. She exhibits her art in national & international exhibitions. Lambert’s writing focus is poetry and creative non-fiction. Currently, she has three new books in development. One is creative non-fiction essays, and two are poetry books. She is the author of "Concerti: Psalms for the Pilgrimage," published by Kota Press.







Along the Road

Not all days in autumn
are sunny and warm
There are those days
that are too dismal
even for photos.
Lonely days
that come with old age,
Dark days
driving alone
when old memories
mingle among
Queen-Anne’s Lace
and Chicory
blooming along the road.

(Previously published in Sparrowgrass Poetry Forum: Anthology and Lambert's latest book, "Walking by Inner Vision: Stories & Poems." ).




White Snakeroot

I’ve been trying for days to write about White Snakeroot
The flowers will arrive in September
I wanted to be ready to read my poem to her
when she stands in filtered sunlight in the autumn woods
    
                in which the fibres of her being
                stem one by one, each to its end,
                   a cluster, flower by flower…”


I repeat the sound of her name
White Snakeroot, White Snakeroot
She’s slender with round stems
White Snakeroot
Be cautious, for she has a look-alike
Stinging nettle
Nettle has square stems.
She can be vicious if touched
White Snakeroot has sharply toothed margins
on her leaves, but she won’t bite!

Snake Root branches bear pointed,
oval, oppositely placed leaves.

                     in which the fibres of her being
                     stem one by one, each to its end,
                       a cluster, flower by flower…”

White Snakeroot’s leaves
have 3 main veins on the underside
One for the Father,
One for the Son,
One for the Holy Ghost.

                    in which the fibres of her being
                    stem one by one, each to its end,
                      a cluster, flower by flower…”

I begin my search for White Snakeroot
near the end of late summer,
little white flower heads will balance
dainty white spiders having a tea party
at the end of each tiny branch.

                     in which the fibres of her being
                    stem one by one, each to its end,
                      a cluster, flower by flower…”

Shortly, the soft white spidery puffs
will replace their furry heads
with faceted black seed beads.
on each delicate blossom,
they place a tiny crown
of soft white silken hairs.
in which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
a cluster, flower by flower…”




Autumnal Mornings

The first announcements of shifting seasons
begin to materialize early on late-August mornings
Under-stated changes happened slowly
when the purple Pokeweed hangs in long clusters
beneath hearty leaves along the well-worn pathway.
Grasses in the meadow display delicate daisy clusters
urgently beckon me to pay attention today
Tread lightly through the grass.
I cast my attention towards the Queen of Summer
Standing in the meadow,
I remain motionless, wide-eyed, surrounded
as the celadon-green stems
display the Queen-Anne’s Lace in full bloom.

These graceful ballet dancers hover
on the warm Autumnal breeze.
Orchestrations in rural fields and along roadsides
They each remember to arrive at this time every year
Nothing can prevent the shifting waves of change
I’ll wait patiently for the blue Chicory to join the dance
In her wisdom, Nature placed them together on a stage
floral dancers on a late-summer stage.
Graceful choreography.
Give them a standing ovation.



Lynda McKinney Lambert

2 comments:

  1. Thank you Indiana Voice Journal editors and staff for publishing my autumn poems in this beautiful new issue. The wild flowers I love so much are in full bloom right now in my western Pennsylvania woods and meadows. September is a splendid month for wild flowers and poem writing.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're welcome, Lynda. I agree, September is a beautiful month. Thank you for contributing! Lovely poems!

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