Nothing New

by Mary Boyde Funches

The darkness grows less dark, the grey-mauve light
Blooms, clouds grow rosy, then red-hot yellow glow
Turns brightly blue with puffballs, soft and white
That fluff to siege towers threatening hills below.
The puddles seep slow to deep roots and swell
The fading flower, next the ballooning fruit
That’s plucked, burst, shriveled, dropped or planted well
To rest gravely until the earth’s new green suit
Appears. The snowmelt’s glacial chill runs down
Earth’s spine and wakes her up all through its course
Of running ripples to the delta, brown
With dirt, to meld with the constant, changing force
That spews its spindrift high. The ocean then
Resumes its endless variations, again.

Mary Boyde Funches is an aspiring poet and speech-language pathologist from the Pacific Northwest.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy