I’m coming back, o yes, I’m coming back
from drug-induced exhaustion. More like spring,
I open, little at a time, and cling
to daffodil arrangements. Winter black
took all my energy and made me spin
out on my walking paths. I stand now, straight,
again feel able to walk through each gate,
hear melodies of birds, not tuneless din.
Just one more day to go
Yes February will soon be but a memory
We have broken so many records with our snow
I know I show you pretty pictures but trust me it has been dreary.
As the rains fall hard in our yard today
Birds are eating what I have offered them with added fury
Then I watch as they rush back to their fray
I bet when the sun comes back they too will be in their glory
February has been a lot like winters of past
The snow just kept dumping on us blast after blast
Snowfall records have even been surpassed
I am really amazed with all this snow and ice I did not end up wearing a CAST!
Thank you March for coming along hurry please
I will turn a year older wiser as well I am sure
I am actually looking forward to flowers covered with bees
I guess as I reflect upon these words if it was always spring I would be bored.
JUST ONE MORE DAY TO GO!
My hand won’t write, but worse than that
my mind can’t conjure up the words
that float on air like little birds.
Where’s the magician and his hat?
I’d wish that he might pull a song
from whence the furry rabbits come.
Please give me something, let me hum
a tune, a verse. It’s all so wrong
to be bereft of energy
for writing on this snowy morn.
Suppose ideas will be born
if patiently I wait? O me,
o my, I do not like this state
of wordlessness. Turn on the lamp,
light up the dark of writer’s cramp,
and fill the blankness of my slate.
My Day
It starts with waking
Then I watch the yard as daylight arrives
This place is so amazing
I can hear the Blue Jay cries
I hear the others chatting just outside the window
They flit from branch to branch
They pick up and crack seeds I put out the night before
Should I forget them they will actually fly into the window
No not by accident but to get my attention
They are as spoiled here as the dog and cat are
Trees have swollen buds
The hill to the right of our upper gate is where my Perennials sit under snow sending out roots to grow bigger and bigger
Where I will try to make a living fence of Roses and Raspberries. From the stonewall border of cemetery
along this whole hill with southern exposure.
Southeast corner of the yard, along the stream.
Covered in Snow and Ice
One of our male Cardinals through the Lilac and Forsythia
Another beautiful Blue Jay peeking at me too cold to spend the energy to fly away
With temps in the 50′s and 60′s this weekend I may have to go to Maine to detect and walk JT
The Hawk could be heard today and with all of it's calling, all my little critters and birds stayed close to cover, hope they had enough to eat considering how cold it will be tonight.
They were smart enough today to stop from being THE MEAL
Peace & Love
Eunice
We came across this beautiful site on Christmas Day
Stand right out PINK
I see Deer browsing the tops of what I call Lichen really not sure yet what this is I must look it up unless you know.
It was one of many gifts I got. Today these are under a foot of heavy wet SNOW
One of our Pair of Cardinals I know you can see the pretty Red male can you find her?
Oh and do you notice the SNOW lol
I love that he stops chewing to watch and listen to me
I’ve seen the change in him. His very words
have taken flight like little wingèd birds.
I could not know that all the hurt he spewed
would be retracted, attitude so crude
subtracted. Who, I ask, am I to doubt
this change? Forgiveness on my lips, I shout
to all the hills and treetops: Thank You, God,
for changing stones upon the path I trod
into soft slippers. Now I walk the wood
and notice where that poison tree once stood.
Yes, what I thought would never change has changed.
I see the puzzle pieces rearranged.
And so I learn to never give up hope,
to look, to raise my eyes toward that far slope
where God unwrapped a present just for me.
I tell Him Thank You, don’t ask Can this be?
The wind blows fiercely in the open sky
The wind blows fiercely,
the birds chatter by,
in the open sky.
The clothes hanging in the open
tend to go for a nice fly when
the wind blows fiercely.
The voices become distant and weak
but the whispers of the nature
in the open sky.
The apples drop down the massive tree
residing in front of my house when
the wind blows fiercely.
The leaves and the twigs flying by
unperturbed, aimlessly
in the open sky.
The power of the nature can be seen,
its might can be experienced when
the wind blows fiercely
in the open sky.
Rules-
1. Five tercets and a quatrain with 8-10 syllables in every line.
2. The first and third lines are refrains and are to be repeated as follows-
A(1)
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
a
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
a
b
A(2)
a
b
A(1)
A(2)
*I haven’t paid any attention to the number of syllables, since I was trying this form of poetry for the first time.
It poured again this morning but they promised sun by this afternoon
So we headed north into Maine to look for treasure and so exercise.
The dog and I got too much time on the beach both of us hurting bad.
He found earrings and change.
We saw a hint of the sun as we headed out across the marsh on our way home…
The sun sinks low behind the distant hill
removing all its warmth from in the air
and leaving us with autumn’s first big chill
while tiny drops of moisture pearl our hair.
The spiders spin their lairs of lustrous sheen
which glisten with the damp of foggy dew,
and slugs and snails leave trails of where they’ve been
and leaves begin to don their winter hue.
As trees bequeath their fruits and lose their clothes
We see their skeletons against the sky
and listen as the wind their branches blows
and watch as birds bid us their last goodbye.
So turn your collars up against the cold
March forward into winter feeling bold.
Food For My Feathered Friends
Yes another Sunflower
Just doing my part
The seeds are filled with Power
As these little birds need a good start.
Soon winter temps will be upon us
They will need this for heat
They will soon begin the rush
Sunflowers I grow are simply a treat.
The farmer pulls his plough across the clay
with all the power of two enormous shires
and in the furrows he creates there plays
a thousand birds, a hundred happy choirs.
Fast forward and look out your window now:
the horses gone and tractors rule supreme.
Mechanisation now will pull the plough,
but for the birds no changes it would seem.
The worms still rise and still is sown the seed -
The choirs will still return here for a feed.
