Door County’s Poet Laureate, Barbara Larsen
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These winter-themed poems by Door County’s Poet Laureate showcase her talent, as well as the power of poetry.
Final Curtain
Some days sun settles into the bay gently,
spreading her delicate chiffon scarves
over the pale sky and silken water
like the pure melodic line of a Chopin nocturne.
Other times she is Carmen who erupts
out of dark clouds to dance a fiery dance,
tossing her bright skirts with abandon
in the air over churning water.
In the opera of deep winter she is the sorceress Medea
who wins the day’s last battle with the Snow Queen,
sending a river of blood across the Ice Palace courtyard
to bring down the curtain of night.
Originally published in Finding Tongues in Trees, Beach Road Press, 2010
Moonshine
Icicles hang from eaves
backlit by the soaring moon.
Stars shoot flames into the night sky.
I stand in the darkened room,
trace shadow patterns
of crooked-branched plum tree
on the snow just beyond the window,
embrace this moonstruck moment.
O magic night! I want to
throw open the window, step out,
and dance in your floodlit space!
But–the warm bed waits.
I drink a long draft of your moonshine
and carry it in my veins
where it will intoxicate my dreams!
Originally published in All in Good Season, Beach Road Press, 2005
Vivaldi On a Starry Night
Finishing in the kitchen,
I delight in music
coming from the other room.
Violin, cello, sopranos, piano –
the Gloria in rehearsal.
Then I remember.
The mail is in its box.
Outside the woods
stretches up to touch
a crescent moon rising
in the eastern sky.
Two brilliant stars ride outpost.
The sharp clean air
quite takes my breath away
as I walk the country road
singing “Laudamus Te” at top voice.
Dark spirits of the day dissolve.
Light hearted I walk back.
Positive, life-affirming Vivaldi!
Could you have dreamed that
three centuries later
you would fill a woman’s heart with joy
on such a crisp and wintry night as this?
Originally published in Beach Road Year, 1989
Haiku for Dark Months
Whirlwind of dry leaves
rises from the garden
last fling before winter sleep
A gray army of waves
marches across the bay
under the command of General Wind
Sleep comes to growing things
who wait for snow
to lay a blanket over them
How many brush strokes
to dab each twig of the cherry tree?
Winter artist begin!
Originally published in Finding Tongues in Trees, Beach Road Press, 2010