Lara Adams Gaydos

Poet, Writer, Educator

 

Dawn on the Baca


Mist-drenched mountains stand patient

and ever-green but for snow bursting

bomb-like off their white caps, frosted


ice-dust mingling with wind-driven clouds.

Wild grasses bend beige beneath winter’s

last gust, and skeletal aspens shiver. But


bright birds sway confident in high boughs,

deliver warm morning song, defy a chance of flurries,

dance on fragrant twigs of cold desert


sage, welcoming back certain spring

even as scant rain freezes before it drops

onto awakening earth and waits to seep in.





on God Measuring the World with a Compass


                                          ~ from a moralized Bible, c. 1250, Vienna


Back bent, as if the weight of the world He created

is somehow unexpected, he steadies the tumultuous orb

with one deft hand. His other wields a compass


with delicate dexterity, his eyes following

the arc of the edge of the world. He does all the math

in his head, double-checking his efforts


from that first busy week. He knows the numbers work,

but, like any carpenter worth his salt, he also knows it’s better

to measure twice and cut once. One wrong move


could deface the whole damned thing. He braces Himself

as he works, placing his foot decidedly outside the frame.

When he’s finished measuring, he’ll grip the firmament


with his bare toes, getting ready to push, to roll us, clinging

tenuously to our little precious earth, back into play,

and then to stand up straight and breathe slowly out again.