20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers


White Showers

School children wait, anxious for that first flake to fall-

“The weatherman said…” cried a child under her breath.

Workers  share the same anxiousness, hoping the snow waits-

until they are home by the fireside with their lover.

Snow plow operators can’t wait, they have to be ready,

start their engines when that first flake falls.

 

And it is so beautiful as it coats everything in white,

Children rejoice as they play in the frozen fluff.

Parents who can, relax and watch the joy on their faces.

Then drivers notice that the snow is turning to slush.

Such beauty becomes an ugly grey mess, and yet, next time,

We, for some reason, go through the same routine.

 


A Bit of Grandma’s Wiisdom

Once, as autumn was blowing away

on  crunchy brown leaves,

and frost had appeared, taking the last asters,

I sat on my porch, shivering,

thinking how long it was until spring.

I longed for daffodils,

and warm breezes.

I looked deep inside and realized

that I longed for my past.

When my kids were little,

before I lost my son and health.

When my marriage made me smile.

When I was young.

Then two of my grandsons ran up the street.

They hugged me so tight,

“I love you, Beebee” they smiled.

And I smiled too.

I remembered my grandma used to say,

“We should never wish time away.”

She lived to be 96 years old.

She was so brave and so wise.

I smiled and hugged my grandsons,

and tried to appreciate the biting winds

yet to come before daffodils.


1 Comment

Nature as a Child

After the darkness,

Blue skies surround me

Clouds drift on the horizon

Drifting away at last

Every day is different

Fresh and exciting.

Gladly, I look for

Hovering bees and bugs

Ice melted at last.

Just one warm day

Keeps me hoping

Long after cold returns

Moonlight sparkles

Night times stars

Overhead-your head and mine.

Perhaps I treasure nature

Questioning it’s rhythms

Reining in its surprises

Turning from chill to warmth

Until I come upon the first

Violet, a sure sign of spring.

Wonder if other over it as much

X-citined as I am

You may know-tell me

Zestfully smiling.


3 Comments

Autumn

Autumn’s fingers poke into
blue skies, coloring trees
crimson, orange, yellow and gold,
dusting them with wealth,
expectation of change this time of year.
Frost soon,
gregarious announcer of winter
hunches with gray shoulders as
if it were a cat stretching. An odd
justice creeps over the land,
killing summer, erasing fall, and
lighting the landscape with white
moments.
No
October treasure remains.
Pilfered, we trudge on toward December
quietly, steadily, with
ragged
slicing
teeth cutting into growth
under the snows.
Violence erupts, blizzard
winds whip with
extraordrinary power,
yammering temperatures to
zero.


1 Comment

Under a Rotting Log

Under a Rotting Log

 

 

It was a simply beautiful spring day.” She thought. She couldn’t help but take in the tiny buds on flowers, mosses, now growing on damp stones, even the azure sky over head seemed especially lovely.

 

She reached down and gently lifted a rotting log, encased in a curly gray lichen. Just as she picked it up, a shiny creature writhed towards the from underneath the log

 

DSCN1767

 

It’s just a blue-tailed skink, laughed her brother, a lizard!

 

She felt a little foolish, still, after all the excitement, she was sure the memory of this spring adventure would remain with her always.

 


4 Comments

December

Talk to me, December.
Tell me where you hid the green.
What secrets do you hold inside your mittens,
under your hat?
You practice your seasonal math,
knowing the requirement for fourths.
Stick branches poke into the skies,
licorice or clarinet against the grayish-blue.
You hum your melodies composed of wind,
surprise us with the first fresh fall of snow.
December, culmination of the warming,
warmed, then cooled, now cold.

 

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