duel
the sun, a star in its own right
glares at the moon
sitting nonchalantly in
the early evening sky
glowering, the sun sits on the horizon
spreading rays of pink, purple, gray
as it becomes more angered, the colors
turn to reds and oranges
and the sun tries to stare down the moon
the moon sits coolly in its own space
contemplating the sun’s displeasure
but giving not an inch
in fact, moving forward into
the evening sky
at last the sun begins to sink
spewing dissatisfied rays of color
it makes its spoiled way
into the sunset
tomorrow
it will chase the moon
from the morning sky
and the duel will begin
again
copyright© 2009
by Terri DeVries
act two
night clouds
pull the covers over the sun
hurrying it to bed
moon sits to the side
impatient
waiting for the stage
stars position themselves
over the vast dark blue
of the sky
meteors dart in and out
leaving small sprays of
white in their wake
morning peers
carefully over the horizon
waiting for the moon to fade
sun’s rays reach out
anticipating the start
of a new day
copyright © 2009
by Terri DeVries
Photo copyright © 2009 by Terri DeVries
Higgins woods in fall
a path winds through the woods
at the lake
lacy trees stand guard
over the sun-painted shadows
on the pathway
seedlings grow wild
undisciplined offspring
stretching tall
among the grownups
quiet echoes in the woods
awed reverence
for indescribable beauty
commands pause
moss mounds along the path
push against trees
boastful in their greenery
proud in their uniqueness
ferns whisper to each other
waving gently
to the grasses in the glen
keeping secrets to themselves
invisible wildlife
hidden from the daylight
wait for dusk
to start their party
copyright © 2009
by Terri DeVries
amputation
a
tree
chosen
by the wind
a sacrificial lamb
is snapped easily as a twig
the wind moves nonchalantly on
searching for its
next
victim
copyright © 2009
by Terri DeVries
photo copyright © 2009 by Terri DeVries
imprint
windy day
at the beach
shells strewn about
sea glass sparkles
waves crash
against rugged rocks
footsteps appear
indentations in the sand
unrecognizable
consistent in their stride
far as the eye can see
they continue
resolute
ongoing for miles
their origin
their distance
a mystery
soon erased
wind willfully
blows grains of sand
until the footprints
disappear
copyright © 2009
by Terri DeVries
photo copyright © 2009 by Terri DeVries
in the middle of the field
the barn resides
standing at ease in the landscape
erect posture disintigrated
into a distinct lean
in its heyday
animals cohabited
hayloaders deposited bales
pitchforks skewered straw
cats nurtured kittens
once the heart of the farm
now neglected
a structure
rendered useless
finding solace in the hayloft
nesting owls are
feathered residents
in the skeletal remains of
the farm’s grand old lady
windstorms howl through
flattening crops
beheading cornstalks
folding the groaning barn
into its final demise
copyright © 2009
by Terri DeVries
frigid season
frigid season
circling it with walls of ice
in the cold January air
under the glacial surface
fish swam uninhibited
relishing their reprieve
trees on the banks
cast frosty shadows across
the gray expanse
devoid of birds, the bare limbs
danced in the icy wind
crackling as they moved
color was absent from the landscape
erased by snow
canceled by winter’s chill
the icicle-draped cottage on the shore
boarded and forbidding
implied abandonment
a forlorn rowboat
securely tied at water’s frozen edge
the only allusion of return
copyright© 2010
by Terri DeVries
baby robins, one day old
oval perfection
in a nest of straw and twigs
the satin sheen a product
of everyday feather dusting
one day I check the nest
and eggs have been replaced
with fragile pink
nearly hairless bodies
bulbous eyes protected by
transluscent lids
sharp beaks open
they are restless as they wait for
gummy worms
each morning I visit
chastised by squawks of
protective parents
feathers increase, thicken
bodies grow, change
eyes open, piercing black
the nest fills and overflows
expectant and hungry
they crane their necks
beaks wide open
awaiting treats of
regurgitated invertebrates
today I check
to see if they will leave
this sunny morning
the nest is empty, broken
a wing
a beak
a leg
lie under the tree
soft feathers
float on the breeze
Terri DeVries
Musings from the Writer's Desk 
I enjoyed requiem. The word-pictures spoke to me from my youth. I like free form poetry because it leans itself to ‘sense’ or ‘feel’ rather than boxed in rhyming which seems to speak to the mind.
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