Summer

September 23, 2021September 23, 2021

Late Summer Blackberries

Tasty morsels of the nibbling kind
entice the deer on a back country road
as she turns to see me more clearly
I notice she favors one of her legs

but it’s part of living on the edge
of our complex society verging on hers
where jumping o’er recently logged trees
a clear cut leaving a swath of land bare

is the price she pays to enjoy nibbling
on these berries that are lacking of water
as there is naught but dust and no rain
but no matter as she enjoys their being

just close enough for her to enjoy them
as I watch in wonder at her trust in me
to casually pick one than another
before moving back into the foliage
to disappear from my sight

The Photo Taken Is My Own

August 20, 2017

Coaxing Change

August days speak Summer
evenings bespeak Fall
a glimmer of change

The photo below was taken by myself and digitally altered.

Seasons Change

June 5, 2017September 2, 2017

Is this the Winter of her discontent as with
Shakespeare the world around might seem one
that is indifferent to her sadness that age
has besieged her but no it is not so harsh
as the icy cold winds and snow harboring
a breath that will not seek to warm her skin

for it has become like the Season of Summer
where the warming rays of the sun stretches wide
to cover the new growth from Spring that offers
new bright green leaves that will be transformed
into variations of darker greens providing shade
to all of nature’s life beneath boughs of trees

who watch as life is born from tiny tadpoles
becoming frogs to the larvae of dragonflies to
a multitude of birds peering from the safety of eggs
to all beginning a journey of grand proportions
where Fall will see a quiet settling in to harvest
and rest amidst the beauty of all that has become

for stepping into the Winter of her life she now sees
her discontent not as a sadness but as one of observing
all that has come before, all that has become who she is
for it is another beginning and one of transformations
that will show her all the brilliance of her colors
enabling doors to naught hidden as opening to reveal

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’s Wednesday writing prompt. Please read more of the other poets’ replies at https://jamiededes.com/2017/05/31/in-time-displaced-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitized by myself.

Tulips in Snow

August 7, 2016

JEST OF HUMOR

The wind is whipping up
setting my hair in motion
my terrier’s ears blowing

murmuring in rumor fashion
auguring a premature fall
amazed it has such gall

as days are still in summer
the land parched and dry
this jest of humor ’tis wry

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Wind Blowing

March 24, 2013

Ransomed Time

Altered Google Image

seasonal changes of ransomed time
coming ’round again in your eyes
when scenes play out in your mind
sepia toned images playing rewind

a summer day on a sunlit beach
walking to the water’s edge
just out of reach
casting long shadows
in our stride
digging for treasures
in the ocean tide

a vacation spent camping
at yosemite park
no pine needles allowed
in the canvas green tent
a diaper laundry line hung
between pine trees
the Coleman stove, the lantern
the sky a starlit sea

winter skies warmed by
the california sun
a metal christmas tree colored
as the color wheel turned
a little girl gazing
waiting anxiously for
christmas ‘morn to come

a spring day showing off
our Sunday best
the elm tree, the ’52 Ford
and all the rest
the smell of vinegar
the strongest kind
hunting easter eggs
our want to find

seasonal changes of ransomed time
coming ’round again in your eyes
when scenes play out in your mind
sepia tone images playing rewind

July 14, 2012July 14, 2012

Distant Rumbling

Image by Illustrator John Howe

riding within the ‘so called’
safety of the car
grey clouds hanging in
thick air as though
calling

with the promise of
lightning strikes
sky electric
followed by the distant
rumbling of thunder
clapping

bird song has left the
air currents
relishing the safety of
leafy boughs or
twig filled nests

brings back to my mind
a girl standing in
awe in front of a
living room window
no fear

watching the light show
waiting for the far
away sound of someone
bowling?

could it be the friends of
Rip Van Winkle playing
nine-pins in the
Catskill Mountains…
maybe

her imagination carried
adrift with glory
lightning strikes on
a summer’s afternoon
a childhood story

We have been having some odd weather lately as has been most of the entire earth and thunder and lightning storms, some without rain, (prevalent and common where I grew up in California) now here in Washington. While out today the sky was brilliant and I thought of one of my favorite stories “Rip Van Winkle” written by author Washington Irving in 1819. As a child when I looked at the sky lit up by lightning my mind just knew it was the men Rip met in the Catskills playing nine-pins. I never feared but as a child that is so much a part of growing up.

June 30, 2012

Memorie’s Ghost Child

children playing tag ball
‘now you’re it!’
you can’t see me playing
at their heals a bit

memories’ ghost child
behind the tree
child playing tag counting
doesn’t notice me

she floats along gray shadows
today’s yesteryear
bare feet and laughter
mimic in their ears

they hose each other down
a hot summer’s day
while she plays alongside
age has no sway

after they’ve gone inside
she plays on
forever free of life’s cares
a ghost child’s song

January 29, 2012January 29, 2012

#28 Small Stone: Promise

The hazelnut tree
now laden with
seed pods
brings the promise
of nuts to
offer
the blue jay
when
he visits later
this Summer

A Small Stone for WOHA at http://writingourwayhome.ning.com

January 6, 2012

Scent of Citrus

Dreams pensive she is
lulled to sleep
smell of citrus touching
from inside out
real enough to taste
juice flowing

On a summer breeze she
walks among orange groves
heady from the scent

Warm air pulling her down
among green grasses
where soon eyes are
heavy with sleep

While in the real world of
pillows and quilts a
window opens to the
night air gently whispering
her name in response
to her calling

Her dreams follow releasing
her again breath heavy
with scent of citrus

January 1, 2012

The Hibiscus

Like the hibiscus
waiting
anticipating
Spring and
dead dry leaves
replaced with
new tender shoots to
become shade trees
in a new Summer
she waits
for a new year
in hopes that ill
health will be
replenished
in those she loves
that their spirits
will flourish
no longer held captive
but set free
to ride the currents
of mountain breezes
the eagle calls
it’s home
she waits
like the hibiscus