Sweet the anonymity walking in the rain ‘neath an umbrella.
Hope is found in the little things
flower pushing between two stones
a rose beginning to unfurl
calves suckling at their mother’s teat
lambs gamboling in greening fields
a spider’s web sparkly with dew
knolls of Ravishing daffodils
skies so blue the heart rejoices
after the grey of stormy clouds
Trees swaying, waving at the sky
the way the grasses bend and bow
yet rise back in graceful triumph
marigold seeds, cones of the pine
samaras of the maple trees
and all living things that reseed
give me hope as I cope with fear
it’s a seed dormant in the heart
that endures though storms are dreadful.
* Going out of town to a funeral, will respond to everyone tomorrow.
What are little boys made of?
Bugs and slugs and shoulder shrugs
skinned shins from climbing trees
sunburned nose and stubbed big toes
and dreams of sailing the sea.
Make believe, dungarees, discoveries,
spit in your eye and double dare tries.
Bubble gum, playing the drums, crumbs
in the bed, snow sleds, wagon red,
and dreams of allie, allie, all’s in free.
What are little girls made of?
The same darn things.
That’s what little girls are made of.
The Twiglet A kiss on the porch
I sat at breakfast with a moony grin
a kiss last night on the porch.
Dad harrumphs, “Did you hear that
strange noise last night?”
It sounded like a cow pulling her leg
out of deep mud. Red to the gills I said,
“Dad, you took all the romance out
of my first kiss.” And he sat at the
table with a satisfied grin.
The Twiglets A rattling winter
The little girl ran
to grandma’s room
as the storm grew bolder,
“I’m scared,” she said,
and snuggled neath the covers.
“Don’t be afraid, little one,
it’s just old North Wind
rattling winter’s bones
letting him know
he’s stayed too long.
MizQuickly A thing is what it is.
No eyes to see
no mouth to speak
no ears to hear
no will to go
on your own
but led by every puff of air
you are nothing but
dust and moisture
condensation above the earth
of sailor’s delight or warning.
Human whimsy insists
in giving you emotion –
angry, brooding turbulence or
gay sherbert colored swathes,
and by the time we see you
the sun is already gone.
adashofsunny Women are the real architects of Society – International Women’s Day Special
(An older one reworked a little)
How do you measure
the worth of a woman?
In inches or pounds?
Single or married?
Childless or mommy?
The color of her skin?
The street she lives on.
The size of her house?
Beautiful or plain?
Stay at home or Do you work?
How about you not measure at all?
How about accepting me just as I am
a little quirky, a little fun,
full of insecurities, loaded with doubts,
and topped off with familial love.
Let it be known,
I am a woman
MizQuickly lose yourself
There were six of them in the yard,
in the cold, looking bewildered by
the traces of snow and a hard wind.
What instinct had mislead them north
to give up days of warmth and flowering
trees, daffodils and soft ground where
worms played catch me if you can.
“cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily,
cheer up” they sing and the red, red robins
keep bob, bob, bobbing along.
The Twiglets Shedding Dust
The sky is shedding its dust,
wrapping it in ice crystals,
hexagonal creations that fall
on the earth in a downy display
of delicate winter beauty.
Breath in the pristine air.
A snowflake begins when a tiny dust or pollen particle comes into contact with water vapor high in Earth’s atmosphere. http://geology.com/articles/snowflakes/
MizQuickly Open the Book
Below are some random book titles. Avoiding any that are familiar, pick one or two that appeal to you, jiggle your curiosity, or send you off onto a tangent. Maybe you want to rewrite one of the titles?
Travels with Herodotus
There once was a girl named Gus
who tried to take her shark on a bus
but the driver was alarmed
afraid he’d be disarmed
but he let her without a fuss.
(Otodus is an extinct genus of mackerel shark which lived from the Paleocene to the Miocene epoch)