My Backyard
by Lynn Norton

Swollen seeds struggle
to embrace the thawing loam.
Birth canal opens.

Dawn streaks through pickets.
Tender blades lean into warmth.
Mower purrs to life.

Fencing post and rail
stand guard against invaders.
Laughter from rabbits.

Night sings to the owl.
Talons caress the crooner.
Hush becomes lyric.

Summer’s open hearth
demands dew from every pore.
Cactus drinks its fill.

Birds taunt the bellows
of wind and tear-filled thunder.
Squirrels feather nests.

Mice scurry through turf,
gather the harvest of light.
Snakes hiss approval.

Trees mourn lost clothing,
shiver in naked horror.
The axe doesn’t judge.

Earth grows icy skin,
foretells the end of breathing.
Birth canal closes.

PAINTING: Flowering Garden by Vincent van Gogh (1888).

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: As a career sculptor, I’ve become intimately familiar with tools that give shape to my vision. Pen and tablet have recently been added to my toolbox alongside chisel and rasp.  To my delight, the creative process of writing revealed itself to be markedly similar to that of sculpting.  Develop a compelling concept. Make preliminary sketches. Render raw materials until they emerge as images.


NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Lynn Norton is a poet and a sculptor. His work reflects a fascination with detail, whether it is seen in images or dimensional patterns. He has been published in Veterans’ Voices magazine and, most recently, in Thorny Locust. The numerous Hallmark Keepsake Ornaments he has created dangle from Christmas tree branches during the holidays and stand on shelves and mantels throughout the year.