Tantrum

Tantrum

Winter is NOT an old man.

He is a toddler 
who stomps around in a bitter mood.

He is a three-year-old throwing a tantrum

after being scolded for misbehaving.

He pitches balls of frigid air that slap faces

and leave cheeks red and stinging.

His fists flail in revolt.

We dodge his repeated blows.

His feet kick up piles of snow

making a mess everywhere.

When you want him to move along,

he flings himself to the ground,

howling and refusing to budge,

as snow swirls about 
and piles up around him.

Winter Waiting

Winter Waiting

Chilled, brisk air 

chases him down the sidewalk 

and follows behind him 

through the door.

He shuts it out quickly.

He shakes bits of snow from his coat

which melt into little puddles 

upon hitting the floor.

He smells chili 

simmering on the stove

and the homemade bread she's baking.

Her welcoming hug and smile

makes him grateful

for a quiet evening at home

 in the making.

Wrapped in an afghan,

watching the flickering fire,

and drinking tea,

they spend their time

reading books, laughing, 

listening to music,

watching TV. 

It's the time of winter waiting.

Waiting for the snow to start.

Waiting for the snow to stop.

Waiting for the snow to melt.

It's the time of winter waiting.

Waiting for the soup to boil.

Waiting for the bread to bake.

Waiting for the new year.

Waiting to see... what cards will be dealt.

The young at heart 

wait for Christmas,

wondering what Santa will bring.

Older folks with aching bones

work jigsaw puzzles 

and wait for spring.

Prepared

Prepared

So the pressure is on. 

It's time to make the Thanksgiving meal.

It must be festive, traditional,

delicious, ideal.

The groceries must be bought.

Recipes gathered up.

The table properly set,

with each plate and cup.

But what if the turkey

refuses to thaw?

What if the oven breaks,

and that bird is still raw?

The stuffing is soggy.

The gravy gets spilled.

The potatoes are lumpy.

No plates are filled.

Take a deep breath

and say a prayer.

Be thankful for blessings;

and for family gathered there.

And when you realize

just how lucky you are,

you'll see it  doesn't matter

if dinner is below par.

Call up the pizza shop

on speed dial,

and dinner will arrive

in a little while.

Don't worry about the food.

Don't stand on ceremony.

Rejoice in your blessings,

and make room for pepperoni!

Even though, at first, 

it can be hard to see.

Remember, remember,

there's always plan B.

*   *  *   *  *

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Flamboyant

Flamboyant

Fall is the time when the trees become

like your eccentric Great-Aunt Irene.

One day: conservative, quiet, sedate,

dressed in a dignified, dark green.

The next: crazy, wild, inhibitions gone,

parading around, making a scene.

Flamboyant in yellow, orange, and red.

Life's too short to always wear green.

I'll Be Back!

Hello readers. I have been selected for jury duty for the next two months. This experience is going to require a great deal of time. As a result, I am taking a temporary blog break. I hope you will come back again when I return in November.

We Are All Miracles

We Are All Miracles

Bits of buttery, pale yellow pollen

powder the inside of a pink lily.

Few will even notice 
except, perhaps, the bees and me.

God stirs up a sunset with his own recipe.

Ingredients?...He uses only three!

Air, sunlight, and wisps of clouds

become pink and blue swirling art

displayed in the sky for everyone to see.

We are nothing but insignificant grains of sand

on an infinite beach next to the infinite sea.

Why were we deemed necessary

in this grand scheme of things?

Why were we chosen to live, to love,

to breathe, and to be?

I'm not sure why, but for whatever reason, 

we are part of the plan.

Our lives intertwine with each creature, each flower, each tree.

We are all miracles made up of music, color, and mystery.

We are magic, math, beauty, and symmetry.

We are all miracles.

Vacation

Vacation

A time to take a break
from the weight
of everything
that is dragging you down.
A chance to see things
you've never seen.
An opportunity
to go somewhere new;
to get out of town.

Leave your footprints behind
as your calling card
in the soft, wet sand
of the beach.
Within a day,
they'll wash away,
and you'll be gone,
once again out of reach.

Yes, for a while, 

it is fun to forget your frustrations
while you frolic 
in the ebb and flow of sea foam,
but the best thing ever about vacation, 

has always been 
remembering how nice it is 
to return home.

Mockingbird

Mockingbird

In search of an audience,

he followed after us, 

from lamp post to tree top,

as we walked on the path down below.

He serenaded us

with his whole repertoire!

Who knew that one bird, singing solo,

could put on such a show?

I suppose there are some 

who would call him a thief,

because the songs that he sings

are all stolen, you know.

But, I can't throw shade

on such a talented crooner.

His melodies were flawless.

His range was wide--high to low.

Although his music was borrowed,

he shared it with much joy.

He sang with a full heart.

What a thrill, indeed! It delighted us so.

*   *   *   *    *

We were on vacation last week at Virginia Beach. While we were there, I had the chance to see and hear a mockingbird. I took the picture above of it. I'm sorry the picture isn't very clear. If you'd like to see some better pictures of mockingbirds; learn more about them; and hear their songs, click here. 

Garden Dancing

Garden Dancing

The Lords of Clematis gather

hoping to share a dance,

with the Rhododendron Ladies,

(if they are given a chance).

King Iris stands tall and steady

in his royal robes of purple and white.

Queen Peony is puffed and ready

to dance away the night.

Cat's Ears Minions mingle, 

crowding just beyond the gate.

They're hoping to catch a glimpse

of the royal heads of state.

The Lords bow to the Ladies.

The Ladies allow themselves to be led.

King Iris, so majestic,

 barely nods his head.

Queen Peony, so festive,

dances any way she pleases.

The minions join in at last, 

swaying to the rhythms 

of the breezes.

Never-ending Night

  The photos below have nothing to do with the poem written underneath them. I just thought I'd share what is in bloom here and add a little color to my blog. The bleeding hearts and lilacs are growing in my yard.  I photographed the daffodils in one of our nearby metro parks. I hope you enjoy seeing them. 

*   *   *   *   *

Never-ending Night

I'm exhausted.

I think I will fall right to sleep...but I don't.

I think my brain

will quiet down and quit its rant...but it won't.

Instead, it hits rewind so I can hear 

every conversation replayed from the day.

It reminds me of what I said,

and of what might have been better to say.

I worry, fret, and deal with regret,

but you can live each day only once.

I fuss and fume about the things,

over which I have no control.

Stop brain, stop! You're driving me mad.

This sleep deprivation is taking its toll.

First, minutes pass,

and then they turn into hours,

and there's no sleep in sight.

Restless; I toss, squirm, and sigh,

trying to wish away

the never-ending night.

My thoughts are rumbling,

chaotic, in a spin.

And just as I finally start to doze,

the alarm jangles and jeers,

"Wake up, wake up. No sleep for you.

It's time to begin again."

You Make Me Laugh, Giraffe!

I don't know if any of you have been following the progress of the pregnant and soon-to-give-birth giraffe named April at the Animal Adventure Park in Harpursville, NY, but I've heard so much about her lately, that I thought I'd write a poem about giraffes. I took the photos in this post the last time I visited the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium in Columbus, Ohio.

You Make Me Laugh, Giraffe!

You make me laugh, giraffe,

with your cherry picker neck 

sticking way up in the trees,

yet you are graceful 

when you amble about

on your spindly legs and knobby knees.

You have a long-reaching tongue 

that's purplish-black,

and a tail like a paintbrush

to swish the flies off your back.

Up high you have expressive brown eyes,

so gentle and sweet.

Way down below you have

 four clompy, stompy feet.

Your markings are unique,

unlike any other creature.

Spot and dots--you have lots!

They may be your best feature.

You have the best view around

from your outlook in the sky.

You make me laugh, giraffe!

I think God created you

with a twinkle in his eye.

*   *   *   *   *

On another topic, I'd like to thank Robert Lee Brewer from Writer's Digest for including my poem, "F0ol," as one of his top 21 favorites submitted to his poem-a-day challenge (the 2016 April PAD Challenge). He announced the results on his blog on March 21, 2017. He has already begun the 2017 PAD Challenge, and it's not too late to join in for anyone who wants to be a part of it. The challenge began on April 1st and will continue throughout the month. Each day during April, he will provide a poetry prompt to give his readers some inspiration. Please visit his blog if you would like to join in the fun. 

Waiting

Waiting

Spring is a fickle trickster.

She tiptoes by,

peeks in the windows,

curls her finger at us,

and tempts us outside

with bouquets of sunny daffodils.

She seduces us 

with trails of purple crocuses 

lifting their bobbing heads

in the warm sun.

Transfixed, we step out 

with smiles wide

to follow her

and soak in her light.

Then she smirks and spins,

and in an instant,

she turns a cold shoulder to us.

She disappears and abandons us

in a whirlwind,

leaving drifts of snow behind

to drape around

the drooping blooms.

Yet, in spite of her rejection,

we wait for her return.

Point of View

Point of View

With whiskers quivering, the tiny, grey mouse

searches for seeds under the sticky milk pod.

Soon there will be no tall, green weeds.

No clover, no Queen Anne's Lace, no goldenrod.

Although the mouse is blissfully unaware,

a "SOLD" sign has been put up on the lot.

It is the last empty lot in the housing development.

Sales in the area have been running hot.

Soon the bulldozer will come

to dig a foundation for a new house.

No one will care or worry about

the tiny, grey, displaced mouse.

Oh I know, some will say, "This is progress!

A family will have a brand new house."

I'm sure that family will think it's progress,

but I bet you a dollar, no one will ask the mouse.