Tuesday, February 24, 2009

woodland's song

frog chorus
moist leafy earth
trickling water
melting frost
sun on leaves
new leaves sprout
rocks emerge under bracken
winds whisper
twigs bud
eggs hatch
moss grows
fallen logs rot
squirrels scurry
feathers float
birds flutter
fish dart
pools wait
crawdads twiddle

Monday, February 23, 2009

Of the West

The scent of sweat and horses
Fills the dry and rugged plains
As I chase the weary herd and
Turn my pony with the reins.

I can hear the shouts and whistles
See the cattle fall and rise
As the sun grows ever hotter
And the dust blows in my eyes.

Rigid leather burns my skin and
Sweat is dripping from my brow.
My canteen is all but empty
And there is no stopping now.

We will drive them all to market
We will get there mighty late
Bet my lasso, spurs, and saddle
When we drive them through the gate

That Old Larry sure will short us
Or at least he'll surely try
Cause he ain't an honest trader
Got a mean and shifty eye.

Don't know why I am a cowboy
Don't know why I don't just quit
But I've done this nigh ten years now
And I'm getting used to it.

Thursday, February 19, 2009


New shoes can pinch the toe or heel
Look good, but that's not how they feel
The old ones frayed, or had a hole,
Or separated from the sole.
God bless the one who now invents
The shoes that make more perfect sense,
That keep out rocks and rain and cold
While looking new, and feeling old.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009


(Upon catching a cold bumblebee, and warming him in a jar. He was a great show and tell!)

A bumblebee
Is after me
So furry full of buzz
His yellow stripes
And tail that bites
And soft forbidden fuzz
Are at a loss
To fly across
So at a loss, he does.
He parks upon
The chilling lawn
And frost approaching down
Reversed the gears
And dowsed all fears
While stifling his sound.
He cannot fly
When cold is by
He overbid his time
And now a jar
Will bring him far
To feed the hungry minds.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

On a Saturday Night

On a Saturday night there came a storm
A lovely storm, with rain and light
Rain and light on a Saturday night.

On a Saturday night when the storm had passed
I watched, and listened, and looked out the glass
And the crickets were singing, singing and wet,
Singing and wet on a Saturday night.

The storm was harmless, almost fun
The sweet, quiet scent when the rain was done
The glittering raindrops under the moon
The newly washed earth, and the bug chorus tune
All seemed to say something:
You're safe, and it's through.
This storm wasn't one that meant harm to you.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Sand and Snow

A snowball's hit
Does little harm
And no one tries
For sand in eyes

Yet so surprised
I wondered why
We never do
A game that's new:

Snow castles, and
Make men of sand.

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Woodland Sunlight

I had my camera handy one morning and caught these rays in the mist.

Friday, February 13, 2009


Midwestern sunsets are famed for their vivid colors!

Pepper Mill Song

A lovely day
Takes caraway,
But who has got the thyme?
The plumbing leeks,
(It has for weeks)
And yet we play the mime.
I'm cumin in.
Don't sit and grin,
You know just what I mint,
I ought to know
Where onions grow
I'll give you all a hint.
In early fall
I tried to call
A girl I used to know.
By all that's vague!
A real nut, Meg,
Barefoot in chili snow.
Now, I'm no sage,
But at my age
I still don't quite know why
That dilly kid
Must flip her lid
With onions in her eye.

A Bluebird's Battle

The window's in an awful state
Since Mr. Bluebird found a mate
For like the Don of windmill fame
He charges at the window pane.

He sees a rival, blue and bright
Within the glass-reflected light
And, launching into forward flight,
He challenges himself to fight.

Feathers ruffled, sore of beak
He sits atop the birdhouse peak
Alert as ever, keeping guard
Who drives reflections from his yard.

Fall Campus

Empty room with a window
Bare pipes cold and quiet
Dim light shining in
Boxes to unpack
Old car smiles below
Wrinkled hood, purring engine
Tufts of weeds sticking through
Cracks in the sidewalk
Fall rains
Water washes
Songs cheer
Warm food waits
Friends neither smother
Nor ignore you
And the books you study
Inspire you
And challenge your intellect
This was fall
The perfect campus
Unpretentious good
And things to do.

A Woodland's Night

A forest of frogs, singing softly in the night,
The sounds of the creek water running by
The leaves sway gently in the moonlight
And they rustle to a song we cannot sing
And can but vaguely understand
Though we long to sing it, too.
A long way off, a dog barks.
Further off, the sounds of the highway,
The cars going by,

The woodland rhythm gets in your blood.
You begin to thrum with it,
To be a part of it unknowingly.
It calls you to your rest.
It beckons you to lie quietly and think its thoughts.
You breathe the smells of the leaves and earth,
And the moist winds of a cloud that rolls
Past the moon, lit with silver.
The moon reflects the sun's light,
And I reflect my Creator.

The Saw

Then I looked and I saw.
Then I saw and I looked.
I liked what I saw
What I saw when I looked
When I looked at the saw
Saw the saw at the scene
Saw the scene where I'd sawed
Sawed the tree where I'd seen
Seen the branch touch the trim
Touch the trim of my house.
And I sawed off the branch
Gave the branch a good trim
Got that branch off the trim
Off the trim of my house.
And I saw a good scene
Sawed the scene where I'd seen
And thus changing the scene
I saw, and I sawed.

Fish Bowl

Guppies dart
Sparkling light
Bubbles float
To the right.
Little plants
All about
Tiny fish
Looking out.
Calm and still
As they pass
Catfish stick
To the glass.

Ode to Freedom

We vote, we live, we speak the truth
We pray as we feel led
But don't forget to tell the youth
Of countrymen that bled.

We have a picnic on the Fourth
And fireworks for fun
But don't forget to tell the kids
Of cannonballs and guns.

We have our freedom handed us
Upon a silver plate.
Dare we forget those men who died,
Or why we celebrate?

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Elegant, delicate shell of an egg
Wonder within you, for this I wait
Motionless marvel, I'm eager to see
All that you promise to be.

Shining black eyes
Melodious cries
And nimble orange feet
As of yet incomplete.

Stay, hand of hurry!
Don't smother with worry
Nor drown in December
That bright little ember.

Be patient! Completion
Takes time, and perfection
Must work its own way
Toward the glimmer of day.