~ Ruth Gillis ~



Click or scroll for Ruth's poems:

The Bud

Seasons

Springtime Serenade

Now That April's Here



 E-Mail Ruth               Ruth's Home Page               Nature Poets home






The Bud

My heart was lifted up to see
the greening bud upon the tree.
From thoughts of gloom it set me free
to contemplate a symphony.


So long the chill had made me blue,
but when I saw the bud I knew
soon spring would rise in full review
to end cold winter's stark milieu.


The bud was just a tiny sprout
but multiplied with force and clout,
and soon it kicked old winter out
and reigned supreme without a doubt!



© Copyright 1999 Ruth Gillis


Back to top







Seasons

Each season speaks a language all its own,
and every season wears a different dress.
While Autumn cloaks herself in amber tone,
bare Winter's gown is laced in quietness.

Refreshing as a soft pastel bouquet,
florescent Spring peeps out in tender green,
while luscious Summer's decked in full array
and brazenly explodes upon the scene.

Spring whispers with a voice as sweet as youth,
while Summer shouts with hale and hardy breath;
tired Autumn sighs with wisdom and with truth,
while Winter's hush is tantamount to death.

All seasons have a voice that is unique,
but God alone announces when they speak.



© Copyright 1999 Ruth Gillis


Back to top







Springtime Serenade

Oh, Spring, you serenade me
In fields and meadows green,
With songs in rainbow rhyme
Of pure eternal dreams.

I feel a glad renewal
Each time I hear you play;
I dance in true abandon
To what you have to say.

When daylight spirals me
To your enchanted place,
My spirit soars forever
As I behold your grace.

If Time were but a canvas
And you a silhouette,
I'd paint your breath upon it
So I would not forget.

When winter winds blow harshly
And crystal raindrops fall,
When your mosaic's mottled,
Your carpet turned to straw,

I'd look upon my canvas,
Your imprint I would see,
And once again I'd hear
You serenading me.



© Copyright 1995 Ruth Gillis


Back to top








Now That April's Here

All winter long I waited for the day
When silent trees would suddenly awake,
Reborn beneath a golden sun's bright ray.
I longed to feel, to joyfully partake
Of new and warmer clime that whispered hope.
When frozen snow lay still and ghostly white
I yearned for carpets green and tried to cope.
The end of winter seemed nowhere in sight,
And yet I persevered and prayed that spring
Would gently rouse the daisies on the hill
And prod again the mockingbirds to sing
A sweet reprieve from winter's morbid chill.

Now April's here and slowly I'm aware
She wears a crown of promise in her hair.



© Copyright 1996 Ruth Gillis


Back to top



E-Mail Ruth               Ruth's Home Page               Nature Poets home



Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1