Winter Solstice
 Rose-colored burnishes bright
 By the western wall,
 Majestic mauve clouds
 Sweep the sky.
 Hues wax radiantly,
 Glow momentarily,
 Vanish into voids.
 Immense stars
 Into ancient patterns
 Night materializes.
 Silver flings her mantle
 Over all creation.
 Horses, fields, flower
 Stand frozen in white time.
 Shifting pearly fog
 Enamels frigid air,
 Etching frosty snowflake
 As it freezes.
 Suddenly the sun streaks
 Blinding flashes, pointing to
 Pink paths.
 Day emerges.
 Day and night
 So fragile, so finite
 Til the time
 The sun implodes
 And no one is left
 To linger. 
 Morning Makes
 Beyond the glass
 The dark is damp and Dewey.
 At 7:45
 Cold grey Dawn barely
 Begins to materialize.
 The light brightens, slowly,
 Continues to brighten, slowly.
 Twittering birds
 Chirp, scatter leaves about,
 Finding food frantically.
 Inky pines
 Stand in vertical silence.
 Scarcely over tree tops
 A rosy sheen takes shape.
 Wispy streaks of purple
 Coalesce and spread.
 Lacy pine boughs begin to
 Vibrate in the breeze.
 In ten seconds,
 The drama is over,
 Making morning
 And blinding white light.
 Dear God​,
 May this scene never end.
 Will we too
 Become​ an
 Illuminating​ vision?
 Are we one now?
 My Garden of Eden
 I will build
 A house of
 Earthen blocks,
 Smeared with
 Creamy stucco.
 I will top
 The roof with
 Orange colored tiles,
 The door,
 A powdery turquoise.
 Arched Moorish windows
 Will surround
 Stained glass
 Edged with
 Wooden shutters.
 Laced grape vines
 Will roof the patio,
 Peach trees, fig trees,
 Apple trees all around.
 Fragrant flowers
 And pungent herbs,
 Delectable vegetables,
 Drawn from
 Thick black soil.
 A solar panel
 Atop,hard glistening tiles
 On the floor,
 Walls bathed in
 Violet vibrant hues,
 A place of my own
 A place
 Where there are 
Betsy Lawson, twenty year retired teacher grades 4 - university, is now at age 83 really enjoying life. Surviving a devastating divorce is what pushed her to write her many poems which ultimately found their way into her book Soul Mirrors. Always a teacher, she hopes these poems also help others to find their way to happiness 

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One thought on “two poems by Betsy Lawson, WordCity Monthly Dec2020 Issue4

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