Poetry

This 'n That

Scrumptious fall morning

I could eat every ray

Of this delicious sunshine

Curator's Note:  This is a small jumble of poetical-type things I've been playing with lately.  It's a mish-mash.  Regarding Woolen Socks...it's just a poem, I have no known plans of going anywhere that cold or hot anytime soon! 

September morning/

Open window cracked just so/

Fresh air starts the day.

Peace and blessings fellow travelers.

Rain Rhythm

A weed in our backyard

Bounces with each raindrop

So do blades of grass and leaves

The mint smells minty,

I think, in this rain

But it is just outside the reach

Of my olfactory receptors

Still here I am

My blanket on my knees

Toes covered

Cool on a rainy,

June, Saturday morning

Simple peace

     it is enough

I wonder

     why people need to escape

Always need

     need more

I wonder

     why

I wonder about the drips

Dripping, drippiness

Rain rhythm

God's re-hymn

Weeds bouncing

     to the beat

Step Into Each Step

In hearts of men are hopes and cares and plans

To woo and wonder, win and win and when

The win, the woo, the wonderful grows pale

There lies an emptiness that never may be filled

Until the emptiness, that void, that cold

Vacates the striving, greedy, anxious heart

Shard-speared by shattered dreams ambitions marred

Can sprouts of seeds much deeper soon be told

Come visit fields of flowers wild and gay

Come traipse along the trail with rough terrain

Come share with me the place where nature reigns

Come jump and skip and run and walk each day

Step firmly steady confident in self

Step steady steadfast sure of nature's gift

Step steppes missteps sidesteps and surely drift

Step into depth of living in the moment's wealth

Woolen Socks

Well-woolened toes sneak out from heated throw

Socks short-term roadblocks 'gainst the creeping cold

The torn string-snarled blanket together yet still holds

Still keeping Michael's limbs from chilling so

Seven decades I've been seeking heat

For seven decades turned from frosty limbs

Many mornings now seem hopeless dim

The frigid coachman's touch I'm due to meet

The fiery furnace calls to me each day

These striped-warm socks are all that's needed now

Against the ice world still they take their bow

My woolened toes sneak out from heated throw

My striped socks like mini-moats surrounding

     mighty castle walls

Tween cold and heat and death's assuring calls.

The rain beats patterns/

On our new roof and I smile/

Feeling safe again

Shoe crunch on ice-snow/

The frozen mailbox opens/

A friend needs letters

An early morning/

Call means very good or very bad/

A portentous ring

The awe of morning/

Mystery comes each dawning/

Night's veil uplifted