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

Sunset

Midwestern sunsets are famed for their vivid colors!

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.

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,
Swoosh!

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.