the call of the wild

Is it the howl of a wolf?

Not all the time

Today it was a summer morning concert

melodic music filled the air

The cardinals sang from the trees

A chorus of song filled the newly beginning day

Is it a sound?

Not all the time

At dawn, it was the sunlight spreading across the land

The alarm for all of nature

Wake up, fly through the air, begin your day

Can we feel it?

Sometimes

A soft breeze gently pushes the leaves into dancing waves

Gentle heat from the sun kisses my cheeks and all of my skin

My nose is tickled by the pollen in the summer air

Greetings from the wild

Enjoy the wild

Relish in its gifts to us all

Another poetic year has come to an end

We must say, “farewell and see you again”

I’m in awe of the talent that surrounds

Our infective adoration has lured many into our compound

Poetry is their medicine

Their cure

Their source of relief

A special place to express their disbelief

The power of words is our artistry

Please join us in the uncharted seas of Poetry

A poem in honor of my poetry club as we end for the school year.

Sun’s Blush

Spring mornings, the sun blushes

The sky fills with her pink shimmer

She is Mother Nature’s beginner

Not only does she signal the start of my day

But also she announces the Earth to awaken

The tips of the branches have undertaken

The soil can no longer hold back the sprouts

However there remains some holdouts

They know Mother Nature changes her mind

In April she is temperamental

Yet this early Spring tease is transcendental

Benefits

Opportunity stretches

between the ages and beyond

A Centerpiece

An Ambassador

A Student

of life

no restrictions to their encounters

Their heritage fosters memories

A lifetime transforms

us all

This poem was written from a blackout poem. All words were borrowed from a magazine article.

Memory Bank

my senses are a time machine

they lasso me back to the 80’s

to my childhood

whether it is a summer morning

lit up with bright sunshine

being serenaded by the cardinals’ melodies

I am sent back to summer break riding my bike to the pool

or an October evening with an Autumn breeze as warm as June

my footsteps crunching down the block

I am sent back and a smile grows across my face.

Now, it is the fireplace aroma grabbing me

with lightening speed back to winter break

sledding in frigid air on metal disks

and the late afternoon dim light

I see the tiny white lights on the trees

lined down the village streets

the warmth of this memory hugs me

my bank is full

it is almost bursting at the hinges

my senses are the combination that unlocks my safe

its contents remind me

life is good!

Autumn Mornings

A dull golden crown surrounds me

laying atop it, billowy pillowy clouds

the evolution of morning enflames the clouds in bursts of scarlet

as I drive, behind me the morning sky glows pink

it awaits the arrival of a new day

my path in front explodes with volcanic cumulus blanketing the eastern horizon

behind the eruption the glow of morning is pushing its way anew

You don’t have to go to Scotland to see the lush rolling hills

You don’t have to go to Scotland to see the lush rolling hills

I admire out my window daily on my route to work

Sloping, emerald hills cut at each other

Intersecting showered with morning dew

A thick smear of fog fills the valley

The morning sky is an artist’s palette

Mother Nature is blending her colors

They spread and mix trying to find the perfect shade to announce the day

A tinge of pink spreads like a contagion

I try to notice where the pink changes to blue

But it spreads like the hands of a clock

I am long past when the fog disappears into the vanishing pink

The picture is burned into my memories

You don’t have to go to Scotland to see the lush rolling hills

Autumn is a baker

Autumn is a baker who uses sprinkles

She generously adds her vibrant touches

A spray of bright red on the top

or a smattering of yellow dripping down the sides

her arborous cupcakes come in many shapes

The maples reach up to her to receive their colorful christening

The oaks drip down with hued leaves

Our eyes delight in the transformation of seasons

It is a pleasure we embrace before the bakery is empty

Winter will soon arrive and spraypaint her colorless glitter

Did you know there are artists among the wildflowers?

Did you know there are artists among the wildflowers?

I imagine they work tirelessly through the night

Their exhibit is brief in the short dawn light

A momentary sunlit spotlight

Not many will see their work

only those who wake early like me

The dewy glitter highlights the beauty

It is a majestic masterpiece

Like fog settling down

among the Queen Anne’s Lace

Many fear these wonderous weavers

The meadow is praised all day for its colorful beauty

But don’t forget the artists among the wildflowers.