Where the Pixies Play

Where the Pixies Play

In the meadow, under a pine, at the edge of the wood,

right at my feet, the yellow mushroom stood.

Nothing but an ordinary mushroom by day,

but at night, it's where the pixies play.

Fluttering about with the fireflies;

giggling, whispering, and batting their eyes;

they play hide and seek among the clover,

flitting about, under and over.

They frolic and dance with the other sprites,

whiling away the starlit nights.

When at last the sun begins to rise,

they rest their heads and close their eyes,

but they'll be back when the stars shine,

on the mushroom, in the meadow, under a pine, 

which looks so ordinary during the day,

but at night, it's where the pixies play.

Grandma's Lap

Grandma's Lap

There's no better place

to take a nap

than snuggled up

on Grandma's lap.

She finger sings the spider

up the water spout to me,

and I sit feeling sleepy,

while sitting on her knee.

She softly counts my fingers,

and then she counts my toes.

A yawn escapes from my mouth,

and my eyes begin to close.

Soon I'm drifting off to sleep

with dreams floating in my head.

I snooze and sigh with contentment, 

when Grandma's lap is my bed.

Childhood Summer

Childhood Summer

Picking fat, green peapods
from the vines growing at the edge of the garden.
Sitting on the porch swing in the breezeway
with my mom and my cat.
Shelling peas from their pods,
scooping them into a stainless steel mixing bowl.
Listening to them ping as they fell,
"rat-a-tat-tat."

Childhood summers were so simple.
Riding our bikes together in packs,
all around the neighborhood.
Everyone was your friend--it was as easy as that.
Endless games of wiffle ball in the empty field.
Me, playing second base--never caught a one.
Charlie liked being the pitcher.
His sister, the youngest, always first up to bat.

We played hide and seek behind the lilac bushes.
Mary Aileen really knew how to run!
She'd make it home from anywhere
in fifteen seconds flat.
We kept busy with jump rope, freeze tag, and hot potato,
or tossed pebbles into the creek near the train tracks
and counted box cars from the bridge where we sat.

Those times and places are long gone now.
Many of the people are gone too.
It's no longer possible for any of us
to make it home in fifteen seconds flat,
but if I close my eyes and drift a bit,
I 'm there again jumping rope and hiding in the lilacs.
Everyone is a friend.
I just close my eyes--it's as easy as that.

Solace of the Sea

Solace of the Sea

Sea sounds bring solace.

Whispering waves ebb and flow.

Waters mirror a scenic serenity,

while salty breezes blow.

Sandpipers play relentless tag,

alternating the chase with escape.

Gentle whitecaps rise to greet them,

carving the outline of the cape.

Seagulls swoop and dive with an echoing cry,

floating white on the cornflower sky.

Troubles forgotten, we lie on the sand

and watch cotton ball clouds drifting by.

For those wondering, no, I am not currently at the beach. These photos are from a vacation a few years ago. 

The Sleeping Baby

The Sleeping Baby

Baby's belly is full.

We have already played pattycake,

read a bedtime story,

and shared a lullaby.

She settles into my arms.

The rhythm of the rocking chair soothes us.

Sleep slowly drifts into the nursery.

Tiny fingers curl

around the edge

of a blanket.

Her breath comes, steady and soft.

Her hair sticks out - wisps of flyaway fluff at her nape.

Snuggled in dainty, white footed pajamas -

speckled with pink stars and yellow moons,

she breathes out a sigh of comfort and peace,

and with gratitude, so do I.

Just Deer Being Deer

Just Deer Being Deer

Their homes, their fields, and their forests

were dug up and taken over.

Now housing developments and condos sit

where once maple trees shaded clover.

They are forced to share our shrinking land.

Caught between living spaces--

farmers' fields and a few metroparks,

and overwhelmingly "civilized" places.

So they roam in our yards

and graze our garden plots,

because there is no room left for them

in their dwindling wildlife spots.

Their natural enemies are mostly gone.

They have learned to lose their fear

of the people whose yards in which they wander.

No one to blame. Just deer being deer.

Some people don't want to see the deer.

All they know is the damage they've done.

They grumble under their breath

about getting guns and making venison.

I like the deer, though, such graceful creatures,

with big, soulful, brown eyes.

They have long legs, and expressive faces,

and wear a camouflage disguise.

There must be some solution

where wildlife and man both win.

Maybe someday we can fix this mess

we've put them (and ourselves) in. 

Magnolia Miracles

Magnolia Miracles

Like hands clasped in prayer,

magnolia buds appeared,

promising the hope of renewal.

Then the sun broke through 

and the clouds cleared.

Prayers were answered

as the petals opened wide,

offering exuberance, 

and second chances...

to breathe, seek joy, 

and be glorified.

This magnolia tree is in my new next door neighbor's front yard! In the photo below, you can see the front of my house next door with the yellow forsythia bushes forming a hedge along the side of it.

April Fool's Day Hoax

April Fool's Day Hoax

Snow has returned

in an early April Fool's Day hoax.

"Don't we deserve a reprieve?"

We ask the TV weatherman. 

We plead. We coax.

But the grass and trees 

that were turning green

have become instead

a cold, soft, white scene.

Spring is shy 

against winter's hold.

This frozen air 

is getting old! 

I know the snow 

will melt before long,

but until then, 

all this white is wrong!

Let's hope this is 

winter's last wheezing gasp.

Pray the sun breaks through 

winter's clinging grasp.

I suppose 

I will love spring 

all the more.

When it returns 

outside my door.

Like others, 

I have a habit of wanting 

what I have not,

instead of being grateful 

for what I have got.

Settling In

Settling In

Checking out new places,

arranging and rearranging spaces,

moving closer to familiar faces,

we've made the leap to a new home!

Packing, moving, and unpacking each box,

getting new keys and testing the locks,

organizing everything from soup spoons to socks,

we've settled in, quieting the urge to roam.

*   *   *   *   *

   Hello friends! Please excuse my long absence from blogging. My husband has retired, and we have moved to a new home in a small city east of Cleveland. We now live nearby to family members and are looking forward to this next chapter in our lives. We still have many boxes to unpack, but we are slowly getting things arranged and settling in. The picture above is of our new home. 

Meeting Amelia

Meeting Amelia

It is such a thrill to meet you,

to see the wonder in your bright eyes,

like your Daddy's--soft cornflower blue.

Tiny wisps of red hair escape the hospital hat,

striped in white and blue and pink.

I have a granddaughter...imagine that!

This is a sacred moment for me, to hold you now.

You, cooing and content, wrapped in a blanket like a burrito.

Me, overwhelmed with delight, sighing a whispered, "Wow." 

Hide and Seek

Hide and Seek

All those years ago, with my nose pressed

against the rough bark of our backyard maple tree,
I cupped my hands over closed eyes,

showing I couldn't see.

I counted out loud, "...48, 49, 50.
Here I come, ready, or not!"

Opening my eyes, turning from the tree,
I saw no one, but I took off running,

searching each hiding spot.

All these years later,

I have no hiding space.

Knowing I can't see,

I search for comfort, peace, and grace.

Out of control, like a beating drum,

time keeps counting down.

All I can do is get up each day,

take off running, and say,

"Ready or not, here I come!"