Who Is This?

 

 



Who is this person who
goes about with her head up
in the blue heavens plucking
white puffs from passing clouds,
weaves them into poems
until there is no cloud at all?

Who is this person who
goes about with her mind so
full of foolish things?
What does she think she’s doing,
ignoring the latest styles
in ladies’ hats and shoes,
missing social niceties
and other vital signs of life?

Who is this person who
goes about whipping out
a coil-bound notebook
at the slightest stimulation,
hunting for a pen, fearing
some precious thought will vanish
before she’s tacked it down
in scrawling lines of poetry.

Who is this person who
thinks she can demonstrate
why we feel the way we do
or how we should look
at some unusual bloom
or distant arcing rainbow
when we have so much more
important work to do.
Odd, isn’t she?

 

 

Sharing the Blooms

We’ve reached that time of year when our outdoor flowers are looking rather weary. The petunias in my planters haven’t frozen yet, but the sensitive marigolds around the edges wilted at the first hint of frost. Their brittle leaves don’t add much to the esthetics anymore.

I know we’ll have to start pulling up and tossing soon, but we’ve enjoyed the colorful display this summer and I was happy to learn one evening that we were sharing. At dusk I was standing on the deck when I noticed a hummingbird moth in the petunias, zipping from bloom too bloom, enjoying the sweetness of my flowers. I’ve seen it half a dozen times since — one evening I saw a smaller version, too.

Thinking of sharing good things, I found this little story somewhere and will share it with you, hoping this thought will inspire you, too, this morning.

A lady who was a great lover of flowers had set out a rare vine at the base of a stone wall. It grew vigorously, yet she saw no blooms. Day after day she cultivated and watered it to coax it into bloom.
One morning as she stood disappointedly before it, her invalid neighbour whose back lot adjoined hers, called over and said, “You can’t imagine how much I have been enjoying the blooms of what you planted!”
The lady who owned the plant looked, and on the other side of the wall was a mass of blooms. The vine had crept through the crevices and flowered luxuriantly on the other side.
So often we think our efforts are thrown away because we do not see their fruits. We need to learn that in the service of God our prayers, our toils, and our crosses are never in vain. Somewhere they bear fruit, and hearts will receive blessings and joy from our efforts.

–Author Unknown to me

Senior Travelers

My husband will vouch for me in this regard. 🙂

With a cheery wave of farewell
we’re off! Adventure lies ahead.
A rosy dawn, a beckoning road,
the time and courage to explore
new spectacles, new vistas grand,
intrigue beyond each bend.

We rumble along, anticipating
amazing sights we’ll see en route,
as we wind through sunlit valleys
and quiet hamlets where
folks behind closed doors
begin another day’s chores.

Arid lands we may encounter
with highway grey, the bushes tawny,
wildlife staring as we pass.
We’ll admire the fertile fields we see,
crisscrossed with tractor trails,
and marvel at the forests rich.

So full of life, so full of pep —
and two cups morning brew.
How soon will we be stopping
for a washroom break?

The sun is bright, the car is warm,
the tires on the pavement drone.
My eyelids start to blink…
twas early I left my bed.
Wake me up when we get
somewhere…
zzz…

Fandango’s one-word prompt today: HIGHWAY

A Carefree Creature

As my response to the Ragtag daily prompt: FREEDOM
with a nod to Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day: NONCHALANT

I offer this poem about this carefree toad:

The Happy Toad

by Edgar Guest

As I was walking down the road
I met an ugly, grinning toad,
who squatted in the shade and said:
“I never wish that I were dead.
Wherever I may chance to stray
I find rich food along the way;
I have no dreams I can’t fulfill;
I owe no other toad a bill.
In slimy places I abide
but with them I am satisfied.
My little children I forsook
as tadpoles in a nearby brook;
I know not where they are, nor care.
I have no burdens I must bear.
At night I never lie awake.
My bitterest enemy is the snake.
I have no taxes, no beliefs,
no cares, ambitions, hopes or griefs;
no clothes to buy, no cash to lose,
no tools that I must learn to use.
I sing no dirges, tell no jokes.
I’m just a jumping toad who croaks;
contented, placid, happy I
shall be until the day I die.”
~~~
Yet as I trudged along the road
I thought, “Who wants to be a toad?”
From his book, Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest,
©1934 by the Reilly & Lee Co

Toad

E-zine Haiku Competition

Following a link today, I discovered a new online magazine, Vita Brevis . For those of you who are interested in Haiku, the editor is hosting a four-day haiku competition, ending Monday night, Aug 13th.

Anyone can leave one haiku verse in the comments. Read the complete details here: Comment-a-Haiku Poetry Competition

Nature is the theme so I dug into my archives and pulled up a few that could work. I considered this one, but it’s not very aesthetic so I won’t offer it for the contest. You can read it and give a Thumbs-up or Thumbs-down.

beside the highway
three ravens process
yesterday’s mad rush

Or how about:

the zoo animals
watch the humans play

amusing monkeys

🙂
It’s probably been done before.