Pussy willows
Cattails
Runny jam and spiders.
Sunshine
Snowflakes
Raindrops and showers.
Gravel roads
Spiderwebs
Earwigs on flowers.
Troubadours
Trumpets
Crazy horses trotting.
Tulip bulbs
Hunger years
Small children crying.
Clouds above
Heaven above
God's arms open wide.
Amongst the cattails
In the spring
Nature pops up
New life begins.
Looking at the world
through rose coloured glasses.
As the winds and clouds roll by.
Like thoughts and ideas,
they make smooth passes.
My feelings;
like dots in the sky.
Surrounding yourself pleasantly
is difficult sometimes.
The flowers and the trees,
are not always in rhyme.
My expectations are like chimes,
in what a world finds fair.
So different is the light
that my daydreams share.
Three small children
Bring home
Three small pines.
The trees were planted in a line.
Side by side, the children grew.
Side by side, grew the trees.
That first earth day,
It has created a beautiful background.
For so many
a wonderful thing.
Family gatherings,
Children playing,
Music in the yard.
A beautiful couple
saying, 'I do'.
From a seed,
into a sapling.
From a sapling,
into a tree.
From a tree,
into a stump.
From a stump,
into earth.
To provide nourishment,
for the next tiny seed.
We spent a wonderful, mid April day, discovering beautiful Cooper’s Falls.
Taking advantage of an unseasonably warm day. No mosquitoes, and no blackflies.
Ontario, yours to discover!
Two swans dancing.....
In a farmer’s flooded field…..
To The Thawing Wind by Robert Frost
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the browns beneath the whites;
But whatever you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass, and leave the sticks
Like a hermits crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out the door.
White is white
Black is black
Grey is grey
White is not White
It it winter
It is ivory
It is bone
It is bright
Black is not black
It is raven
It is dusk
It is ebony
It is midnight
Grey comes through in many shades
It is blurred
It is clear
It is smudged
It is dear
Grey is like a newspaper
It is black and white
And read all over.
A tulip popped out of the ground.
It made sure no one was around.
It took off its shirt.
Which fell in the dirt.
It turned red without making a sound.
I had a wooden shoe.
It was quite new.
I put it on my feet.
They felt really neat.
How they both fit in, I haven't a clue.
Red is a colour I like.
It is the colour of my new bike.
I rode it to the bar.
Thought it would be safer than driving my car.
Now, onward home, I hike.
There was a hat on my head
Last night, when I went to bed.
My husband laughed.
He thought me daft.
Now, there is a pot on his head.
I made a person cry today.
She was a lady of an age that I once used to be.
Her circumstances, though, just a little bit different.
She was standing on the corner of a street.
The light turned red.
So my car came to a stop.
Her face was really sad.
Her clothes, dirty and worn.
Her expression told me that she was not expecting anything from the gray-haired lady who had pulled up alongside her.
I opened my purse.
I pulled out a bill.
She accepted the money and said,’Thanks, and God Bless.’
I told her to take care of herself, as she began to cry.
The light turned green.
A tear rolled down my face.
And my car rolled away.
Be kind to someone today.
We are all butterflies.
Groovy Tales of a Well Adult 