​Four new poems from writer Nuala Reilly.

NIGHT

A step
A sigh
That wandering eye
A smile
A wink
That made me think
That touch
Those lips
My fingertips
That voice
That tone
The line along my collarbone

One touch
Just one
Tentative at first
Testing out the waters
Checking for warmth
Wanting to dive in
But
Wanting to prolong the moment
The sweet sweet moment
When tongues meet
In ancient dance
When hands
Explore skin
Pulses quicken
The wicked delight
Of stolen moments
Lost in a dervish
Of salty skin

A step
We took
One lingered look
A walk
Back to
What life we knew
Before
We tangoed
In the dark

WILLOWS

There is a place 
I call among my favourites
Down among the dappled grass 
The fawn like softness of the light
That pours like liquid gold
Though the branches of the maple
And the oak, the fir, the birch 

This place is mine in my heart
Where I come to still the stirrings
Of all the swirling in my head
The loud bangs and screeches 
Of the town, of the roads
Where tempo tempo is the mantra
Of the world at large

I come to rest
Among the trees alone
Whether there be other partakers
Or none at all
It is the stillness and the quiet 
That I take to my breast
And claim for myself in the moment

There among the boughs
Along the brook and the ferns
With queen anne’s lace facing skyward
And buttercups full of bees
I find my one space
Like the earth has curved its hand 
Into a cup-like seat for me

My willow, my willow
Pale green leaves are dripping
Gracefully from your limbs
You seem to be always reaching
Or else slowing letting go
Some long begotten lover
Or some heavy burden of sadness

Oh willow, my willow
Sing a song for me
As I sit in the grass at your feet 
And rest for a little while

REFLECTIONS 

The wind that briefly bends the grass 
Has whispered unsung life upon my face
Water flows like molten glass 
Past me, alone in this quiet place

I watch as Jays and Robins sing
Alight upon the budding boughs
Unfold their colors in this spring
Court my heart as it allows

A mighty fir rises high
Straight-backed among its sapling friends 
Its majesty draws my gaze nigh
Beauty fresh in spite of youths end

I want to cry out in ancient tone
Dance barefooted on the soft ground
I keep my impulse as my own
I choose to listen to nature’s sound

Traffic is a distant roar 
I concentrate on earth’s true face
I hear complexities of life no more
I’m settled and calm in this quiet place

Wind feeds me with fragrant airs
Sun licks my skin with orange light
I cast away all mortal cares
Slip silently into gentle night.

A POEM FOR SHAWN

Little boy with no shoes
In the middle of a field
Too small for the games the big boys play behind you
Too old to hold your mothers hand
When imagined adventures beckon
Purple with the heat of day
Plastered hair across your brow
I remember when you had no hair at all
Your adventures were nothing more
Than the sheer will to be alive
Your tiny hand on my finger
Little boy with no shoes 
Flying on a swing
Dancing in the meadow
Blowing dandelion fluff to the sky
Carrying your dreams and my wishes for you
Higher and higher on the breeze

About the Author

​Nuala Reilly lives with her family in southern New Brunswick. Her first four books are all available on Amazon and she currently working on five and six.  Get to know her better at her blog, Facebook and Twitter.

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