French Frys…..

A little bowls of french frys……
There he sits
With his frys
As I
Contently, stare
Into his eyes.

I swipe a fry.
He does not know
Where I sit
Or where
I go.

We all have our niche.
Maybe, we have discovered a ditch!
Or maybe, on a broom, we have seen

Or prehaps
Those are my thoughts
Are my thoughts
My thoughts
I think.

I am putting to bed,
The thoughts in my head.
As they will keep
As I slumber
To sleep.

As I walk through this forest
All alone.

Maria Tuttle
A gigantic bag of french frys!

Summer Time

Hydrangeas, Yarrow, and Milkweed
Just a little bit of sunshine 
Just a little bit of rain
Lots and lots of love
And our garden
Is happy again.
Whites and blues
Their faces are blooming 
Their stems tall and straight
Swaying with the breeze
In our little piece of Eden
Doing as they please.
Lilies in red and shades of white.
If people could be flowers
Instead of ivory towers
What a peaceful place
Our world would be.
Boxes of daisy’s

June Flowers

Who is the poet of the flower?
The answer changes by the hour.
Petals of
and of white,
and of pink.
The scent of  the flower,
Cause the poet to think.
The stem,
The stalk,
Where in
The flower's beauty

In sand, and soil,
And rock.
God's paint brush 
With grace and ease.

Beauty, found and sought.

Mother’s Day

Flowers from my daughter and son-in-law
To Mothers,
From far and wide.
Here on earth,
And in the sky.
Beautiful little goslings
To those who mother
Other people's children.
To those who benefit
From other people's mothers.
A magnificent osprey.
From the goose 
With her gander.
To the Mother osprey
Who yelled at me.
Breakfast close to home.
Happy Mother's Day 
To all of the women
In this world!


A pretty cool stump
I am stumped
Totally stumped
So stumped.
An old old stump
By all the things that I have heard
When people say
Not a single word

A flower stump
Like flower petals 
They grow on dead wood.
They love me
They love me not

A swimming stump
And the waters swirl
As the world turns
Everything stands

A Silly Spring Poem

I love this rock,

With it's wood and rock.

The ice that clings

Like a woolen sock.

It'll stay there

Til the weather is fair,

When it will melt away

Like a frilly frock.

It is so much fun

To see the slush


Beneath your shoe.

It will make you wet,

But what they heck.
A tasty treat, 

For those fast red feet.

Of the elusive red squirrel

If it comes near the house,

It will be treated like a mouse


Happy Spring Everyone !!!!!


Our ancient tree
This old tree.
The forest.
And me.
Triangle in nature
Following footsteps. 
Of those who walked.
These trails.
Before us.
Let your imagination. 
Go wild.
And you will see.
Dragon wings.
And other things.
Looking up.
Listen to the wind.
Listen to the trees.
Listen to the sounds.
Floating on the breeze!

Clouds move us from 2021, into 2022

I Know Not Why
by Morris Rosenfeld
I lift my eyes against the sky,
The clouds are weeping, so am I;
I left mine eyes again on high,
The sun is smiling, so am I.
Why do I smile? Why do I weep?
I do not know; it lies too deep.
I hear the winds of autumn sigh,
They break my heart,
they make me cry;
I hear the birds of lovely spring,
My hopes revive, I help them sing.

Why do I sing? Why do I cry?