Minneapolis, MN
NOVEMBER NIGHT 2002
Moon rippled clouds
Vanilla striations in a blackberry sky
My hands shoved deep into pockets
Shoulders hunched against the wind
The sound of Minnehaha Creek beckons
Running the color of ink
Giving more chill
To the already crisp air
Wood smoke pungent and inviting
Come, come and warm yourself
I remember the campfires in Yosemite
By the Tuolumne River
Listening while it sang
Like some grand chorus
Being led in song
By old trees, waving furiously
In their role of choral director
The sound deep enough
To soak my soul
As I sat long ago
In that magnificent
Granite walled theater
ABOUT THE POET
Irene Colston February 18, 1935 – April 19, 2023 was a local artist born and raised in Minneapolis, MN. After retiring from a busy professional career, Irene immersed herself into the creative writing process. She took classes at The Loft Literary Center, focusing on both lyrical and free form poetry. Ranging from lighthearted and whimsical to solemn and literal, Irene’s poetry drew inspiration from her life: nature, memories, and travel. It brought her joy sharing her art with others.
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