The Tidings of Winter

The forest floor is covered

In a colorful carpet of leaves,


The North wind whistles its eerie song

Through the barren branches of trees.


Soft flakes float like feathers

Falling without a sound,


They melt to glisten like morning dew

Once they touch the ground.


In the sky, the birds take flight

To form a ‘V’ shaped formation,


They know that they must travel far

To reach a warmer location.


The furry critters scurry about

Gathering food for their larder,


For they know the future months ahead

Will make finding food much harder.


Autumn is giving up her ghost

As the days grow shorter and colder,


And soon the world will have a blanket of white

For these are the tidings of winter.


Yvonne Horton November 20, 2013

The Tides of Change

A change is coming…



It disturbs the air,

Like a supple breeze

In early spring

Sifting over a sill  

Of an open window.


A change is coming…



It advances on tiptoe

In soft stocking feet

Barely making a sound

Like a whispered secret

Delivered in a dream.


A change is coming…



It hides in shadow,

Occasionally caught

Like a flash of light

In the corner of an eye

It shines bright, then flits away.


A change is coming…



But with all its stealth,

I am aware that it’s there

And with that knowledge

I keep moving forward

As I begin to prepare.


Along the Shore

The lake echoes waves that melt to the shore

To deluge with fine sand, soggy green seaweed,

Slippery smooth pebbles and the petite shells

Of tiny crustaceans, their edges sharp as glass

Shine white to glint silver sparkling in the sun.

Deadfall, now long smooth driftwood logs

Scatter, inland to rest solid in higher sand

Like pews set in nature’s vast holy ground

To serve as seats for the weary who wander the shore.



Breezes drift soft as whispers

Through the branches of the willows

To send their wispy tresses in motion

That mesmerizes observers to stillness

A Twisted Gap in Time

She tripped over a wrinkle in the liquid realm of sleep

And fell through the whirlwind within her mind’s eye.


She landed hard in a carnival of a twisted gap in time

Where the sure fantasy of her naïve adolescent life’s view

Bled to the raw horror of a deadly untamed reality.


For in this world the Dragons breathed their death breath of fire

So that where forests once stood tall in their immaculate majesty

Now stretched nothing but a barren land of ash, a crimson molten pyre.


The air swirled to leave a dank dark dust that drowned out the light of day

While hot embers raked the air like rain that fell to burn beneath her feet.


From all around her wild whispers rose to red ragged screams

 That tore through the silken sound of her silent night of dreams.


Summer Visitors

The inspiration for this poem comes from one of my Mom’s ‘Memory Stories’ and took place during the late 1920’s to early 1930’s.


Summer Visitors


They came during the months of summer, arriving in a caravan

Of wooden wagons laden with canvas, furniture, and pots, and pans

That clanged the song of their arrival as they moved up the dirt road.

Horses of black, and brown and spotted grey pulled the wagons

While the new ponies of spring followed behind.


Papa always let them camp on our land and supplied food for their stay

In turn, they helped to work the farm and gave Papa ponies in trade;

And our neighbors would come from miles around to have their fortunes told.

Although not relations, Mama insisted we gave them proper honor,

And spoke with respect, calling them Uncle Barney, Aunt Mary and Uncle Jim.


In the evenings, while we sat in a circle around their campfires,

They sang songs from their home country, so many miles away

Accompanied by mandolins, guitars, fiddles, and tambourines.

And as the red and orange flames danced and crackled

They told stories of ghosts, and shift-changers, and apparitions.


When the second big war came, Papa sold the farm,

And I went away to another city for school.

From that time on, our summer visitors ceased to come,

And there were times I wondered where they’d gone.

But, to this day I can still see them in my mind’s eye coming along our road.

And I will always remember the songs they sang and the stories they told.


Down the dry walls of a hollow grave

A phantom speaks in solemn whispers

Cracking the stones of nevermore

To seek out the lives once lost to save.


Long, dark shadows rise to roam the ruins

To merge with memories of long dead corpses

Forming to fashion forgotten gossamer ghosts

That clear the cobwebs from cluttered coffins.


Demons dance in circles, their red eyes ablaze.

Ghouls scream their threats that split the night

To summon the vampires, werewolves, and trolls

That emerge in mist to drown the moon in haze.


Then all at once, monsters shrink back in fear

They cringe as an angelic song surrounds them.

And from the sky shimmering faerie dust falls,

Quelling the nightmare to let the dawn shine clear. 

The Life of Spirits

There are spirits that hide

Within the mists

Of days gone by

Forever dwelling in the past

Never seeking the days to come


There are spirits that writhe

Drowning in the pain

The suffering, the wrath

Of their life’s worst experiences

Never seeking to escape


There are spirits that rejoice

Swelling in the joy

The elation, the bliss

Content in their existence

Never seeking for more


And then there are those spirits

That encompass it all

Embracing each occurrence

Both the delightful and the dire

And even the mundane

As an adventure in their journey

Always seeking the abundance

That only living can bring.




The Earth moved this morning.

It was a single tiny tremor

Lasting only for a few moments,

But just the same

I felt the ground give way

Deep beneath my feet.

As Peaceful Warriors

On any average day we see

Shocking visions of violence

Carried out within the World

Human against human, against nature,

Against Earth

That startles the serenity

Of the calm mind

To bring flames of anguish

Searing deep to permeate

The stillness of one’s Soul


As peaceful Warriors

We must stand strong

Fierce in solid rigidity

To protect, to preserve, to shield

The innocent, the defenseless, the fragile.


As Peaceful Warriors

We must expose the intentions

Of those hell bent and driven

On greed, on power, on control

Those who delight in the destruction,

The suffering, the annihilation

Of the natural balance

The splendor, the blessings

Of all things living


As Peaceful Warriors

We must stand together as one

To defeat with civil defiance

The unconscionable violence

Committed against our Universe 

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