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This Friday we're shining the spotlight on Virginia-based writer, Steve Bucher, with "Scattering Like Leaves" and "Sotto Voce" -- bringing a flash of winter coolness to this hot upstate New York day. Please enjoy! And, thank you, Steve, for sharing your words with SHINE international poetry series! Scattering Like LeavesA scattering of leaves Nut-brown and brittle Skittering briskly in Breeze bucking bursts across Flickers of morning frost Dawn dancing Melodies unheard That wait and wait Whispering winter loss And memory undone Memories once shared A raised glass A moment’s kiss Summer sun glistening Like tears wept Off glaciered peaks Days gone hand in hand Slipping from our grasp A scattering of tears Choked-back and brittle Flickers of morning frost Behind desperate masks Breathless to join The dolent flow Acheron my heart’s grief That waits and waits Whispering like leaves Nut-brown and brittle Whispering like comfort Desperate like masks Taking care Taking care The gentling touch Slipping from our grasp A loving blush from Winter’s waning sun A scattering of love Lies bleeding Tears and leaves As yet unfallen Held fast in comfort lofts of Memory and memories Dawn dancing in Lethe’s lost oblivion That waits and waits Whispering melodies unheard Desperate melodies Slipping from our grasp In comfort cold And cries unheard That wait and wait Each tear a trinity Held in check Wept in grief A moment’s grace Fallen to forgetfulness Scattering like leaves Sotto VoceAngels whisper I am lost No words are left While I stand stammering At distant sycamore Spell cast against wooded hills At pasture’s edge Lone sentinel Laying stark claim Blanching in December Slanting sun Childhood memories Climbing old sycamore By bending stream Massive girth and bough Mottled bark shedding Burgeoning life Laying bare the paling Under-bark beneath Hard to climb Hard not to No words are left… Even with claim laid Hard upon my heart To give quiet voice My emptying self Emptying at pasture’s edge Amid blanching tufts Grown winsome wild Heart-felt claim While I stand clinging Desperate as ground retreats Beneath my quavering feet And questions crack The crisping air With grim report What songs now are left To temper winter’s Cold caprice Angels whisper I am lost Left breathless Desperate voice gasping Into December tufts Grasping naked stems Grown winter hollow paling Into life grown winsome wild December thick Implacable claim Breathless as the sycamore Blanching in late slanting sun Branching desperate light Off mottled bark and bough Paling as my icy breath No words are left December orchard grass Grown wild and winter silent Silent as the sycamore Conjuring quiet voice Hard to respond Hard not to Angels whisper I am lost Shedding what little Now is left Laying bare the paling Under-bark beneath Paling song Barely overheard Fallen from my hands In desperate light  Steven Bucher is an active member of the Poetry Society of Virginia. His first collection of poetry, We Stay a Brief Telling, was published by Propertius Press in 2021. His second manuscript, My Soul to Keep, was named runner-up for the 2025 Eyelands Book Award for unpublished poetry.
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SHINE - International Poetry Series
Click here for submissions and more
From the international poetry community, we have a "luxury of stars," as Sylvia Plath might say, and it is SHINE's honor to provide a home for their words with the online Spotlight series as well as SHINE Quarterly. Click on the logo above to learn more. And...keep writing, keep shining!
In poetry, Samantha Terrell, EIC SYLVIA PLATH
Stars Over the Dordogne Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy
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