SURRENDER    ©   2013 Meg Devlin Irish
 The shifting of the sun,
the rising of the moon,
transpire and unbraid
as cascading mountain peaks,
insurmountably free,
surrender to the depths of the sea!
So, I hasten not the sun
or the timely gift of moon,
for all that is I can't see.
But, like forested leaves from autumn trees,
I know the surrender to be!



        SUNRISE REMEMBERS AUTUMN     2013 Meg Devlin Irish

She winks and blushes, then sidles as if to tease,
In fiery assent over mountain top trees.
Aureate beams, burnished strokes, herald on blue                                                                                       as Sunrise remembers Autumn!
She twirls down branches, haplessly crumpling leaves.
Their rusty mottled presence purports to deceive.
But, for creator, giving a grander view,
Sunrise remembers Autumn!


 Published in The Poet's Touchtone, Spring 2013 Issue, by the Poetry Society Of New Hampshire
          WIND SONG  2013 Meg Devlin Irish
Draw me forth from the cradle of creation
so that I may embrace the wind.
What would there be if not space to be?
Gather me in the reaches of forever.
Unfurling, fluttering, soaring
as an eagle at dawn
to rest in the ease of knowing
something greater, more powerful
has it’s breath in my Windsong!

Natures Pages

                  NATURE'S PAGES      
A wisp of wind dances unheeding
as I mark the page I've left reading;
for autumn morn breaks through the east wood
where the maple and birch have long stood!
My porch dappled, dancing and beaming
in light waves adrift on daydreaming,
as natures' scent comes to fill the bouquet
from neighboring farmer baling his hay!
Monarchs dance amidst blossoms shedding
in gardens too soon set for bedding!
Such beauty and freedom grace earths' display,
a gifted diadem blessing my day!
Yet, leave I must this sprightly morning,
though for daydream I'm truly born in.
Thankful for the journey and poets look
at pages from natures sensual book!




             INSPIRATION   2013  Meg Devlin Irish
You pocket me in transcendent bliss.
I am assumed in color ardent and royal
with no escape from the discourse!
How you come in moments of rare plenty
and brandish me in verse!
In a whispering hush my pen leads my hand
as if rehearsed!