Message from the Fairies

There are so many books in my head that need to be written and published. Oddly enough, among the historical story-poems, sciencey nature poems, and the ever popular stamp-poem books, I have a desire to write a book of fairy poems. This poem will surely end up in that someday mystical poems book. The photo is a heart-shaped, lacey green “message” on my path walking in the woods. Enjoy the poem and the thought of spiritual creatures among us.

message from the fairies

Message from the Fairies

Look a message from the fairies,
a message of love
and green.
The fairies go before me
preparing the trail.
Fairies follow behind me
smiling, coaxing
encouraging me to pause and seek
to move forward and to immerse
into the green and growing.
I am never alone in the woods
fairies
always fairies
are with me.

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Tap Tap Tap

I am getting into being back at my big, old job and finally sleeping better. Weekend sleep is still the best of course. This morning I slept in to 6:25 when a lovely tapping sound woke me. Wood peckers are so fascinating. They come to my bird feeder and make “art” out of standing dead trees. They bounce in the air when they fly and make a twerping sounds. Enjoy the poem and look for wood pecker “art” during your forest walks.

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Tap Tap Tap

half asleep
tapping in my brain
tap tap tap
rousing now
tap tap tap
not my brain
tap tap tap
outside
tap tap tap
a wood pecker
tap tap tap
too late in the season
to be calling for a mate
tap tap tap
did he find a good bug?
tap tap tap
is he carving a winter home?
tap tap tap
nature’s alarm clock
tap tap tap
is so much better than
bleep! bleep! bleep!

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Thunderhead

I love rain and exciting weather. Driving to spend time at our off-grid place this afternoon, this thunderhead greeted me and inspired this poem. Enjoy the poem and rain!

Thunderhead
Thunderhead

Thunderhead
a bulky, swelling cloud bank
with the promise of excitement.

Thunderhead
taking over the horizon
inhaling the day’s light
creeping
building
until its heavy boots
hit the ground in thuds
kicking rolling boulders

Thunderhead
releasing pend up wet
like a blow hole from above

Thunderheads
a beast with an imposing forehead
and smoky eyes
glazed with glee or worry
it is hard to tell
in a visage so electric
rubbing its furry tail
against the balloon of sky.

Thunderhead
bringing down the ceiling,
so we can see the top of the world
and it is grand,
a laughing, fleeting grand thing.

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Flow of People

This is the photo I could find in my computer stash that had lot of people milling around in it. It works especially since it was taken at a car show. Cars to come and go. We remember fondly those cars we had decades ago. Enjoy the poem!

Flow of PeopleFlow of People

Flow of people through your life
like dandelion seeds
drifting to new ground.
Life maybe is a drift,
a river
branching.
We can paddle to some degree
but the current takes us.
Make friends, co-workers in an eddy
then swirl away.
Always moving.
Even the stagnant pool
floods and dries,
moves.
If we’re smart,
we learning something
from every one
and we learn something
about ourselves,
when the circle of their lives
touches the circle of ours.

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Slow Morning

We have a love of slow mornings in my family. My grandfather would sit and ponder in the morning with his coffee and the birds. Dad does it too so, naturally, do I love a slow morning, a delicious bit of nothing before the day takes over. Try it sometime. It is good for you. Enjoy the poem and some morning contentment.
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Slow Morning

The orange ball is springing up
from behind the line of land.
I am waking with the day.
Though morning comes fast
I will ease into it
watch the birds,
listen to the rooster call to action.
Yet a wee bit of lounging is in order
Soft jammies,
a poem to mark the occasion
of a few hours off of everything.
People and places move through my mind
then I am present
to me and to the land
this spot, right now.
I am in my delightful no where
time stalled,
task stalled,
content.
The sun is fully exposed now
shedding orange
and casting on brightest yellow
I know, I know
Just a while longer
Just a while longer
Breathe and snuggle and smile.

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Get on a Horse and Ride

Remember the old saying “if wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” This poem riffs off of that saying. I tend to be action orientated. It is good for us all to remember that we have control over our own destiny even if that destiny doesn’t look exactly the same as our grand wishes. Enjoy the fun poem.

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Get on a Horse and Ride

If wishes were horses,
they would be saggy old nags
standing in their pen
looking at you with hooded bored eyes
chewing the dry hay put in front of them.

If action-steps were horses,
they would be sleek, stallions
gaining ground toward the next finish line
and then the next finish line
stretching out their long legs
with the wind in their manes.

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Temporarily

I keep a tiny notebook in my purse. Usually I write things in it and forget to look back at the notes. Friday, I went through the notebook and found this little poem. I am not sure when I wrote it, maybe last year. I like this little poem. Life does give us mosquitoes. It also gives us breezes to swish them away. Enjoy the poem. Temporarily.jpg

Temporarily

Sit in the woods
the bugs begin
to take you over
then the wind kicks up
the trees slosh
the mosquitoes
drift away
temporarily

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