Steamy mug of spicy cider. Swirling leaves a’tumbling down. Gentle breeze evokes a shiver. Summer’s casting off her crown. Soft wind spiced with harvest’s fragrance. Melon juice drips off my chin. Crickets chirping final chorus. Autumn’s fingers reaching in. Sapphire blooms along the fencerow. Zinnias tempt with pollen binge. Pumpkin splashes dot the garden. Russet… Continue Reading
Latest in: poetry
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If I buzzed about in blooms, I’d chat with friends in rosy rooms. I’d sip from fragrant purple buds in polka-dotted pollen duds. I’d soar among the hollyhocks and snuggle into frilly frocks. I’d conjure up a sweetened brew that’d flow like sunshine’s golden hue. I’d rest beneath a hosta bell where perfumed dreams would… Continue Reading
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Nature’s palette paints the morning. Rainbow colors everywhere. Feathered friends in springtime splendor, Sing a sunrise love affair. Cheerful fellow, rosy blush. Splashy orange in jelly rush. Goldfinch robed in yellow hue, Warbler cloaked in dazzling blue. Hummer green among the blooms. Purple martins, crowded rooms. Who am I amongst this beauty? Who am I amidst this flair?… Continue Reading
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Blooming branches, Babbling bluebird, Buttercups. Barnyard banter, Bouncing babies, Basking bullfrog, Bursting buds. Big Ben’s birthday, Brown-laced bunting, Bitty bunny, Butterfly. And . . . a blossoming blue boy baby. Have a Bbbbbeautiful day! All photos and words property of author.
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A stump sat in the middle of a meadow brimming with wildflowers, and weeds, and butterflies, and birdsong, and little creatures. Each morning, as the sun rose, a wise old man sank onto that stump. And the wisdom of the ages filled him. It was more than enough. One still morning, the stump sat empty.… Continue Reading
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Down a two-trackin trail through the whispering pines to the crest of a hill where the morning sun shines. There at the top of a sycamore tree a red-breasted robin acknowledges me. His melody floats to the meadow below that shelters the promise of spring’s early show. A babble of bluebirds fly by in a… Continue Reading
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Yesterday’s snowdrops lie . . . under a snow drop. Yesterday’s field of elegant beige . . . lies buried beneath a frosted blue haze. Yesterday’s patchwork . . . now shimmers in silver. Yesterday’s stillness . . . is shattered by birdsong. Yesterday’s growth . . . awaits the next thaw. Spring’s early glimmer… Continue Reading
