Another story, another line. A string
of words, that are inclined to
capture these fleeting thoughts of mine.
Some words, just appear. Where others
remain, hidden in the shadows of
There is a tendency, that stays with me
to write in verse or rhyming poetry.
I'm not sure why but I will say
it is ingrained in patterned words
that fall to paper, instantly.
I try not to think, too hard,
but like a broken pot or a shard,
will drop to paper, with scratching pen
and then will be the place I began.
Why I write in this way,
is still a mystery, most every day.
A welcome mystery it is. I enjoy reading your stories. They show depth, meaning, humor and much more.
A sadness has come over me,
when I see the loss of another tree.
The beauty that bounds with growth
of leaves, fir needles, was a
sign of Spring and of the new youth.
As the year progressed and needles shed
I realized the beautiful tree was dead.
Call up an Arborist, coming to see me,
for I need your opinion on this, my tree.
It's dead and we will remove it for thee.
Oh by the way, this is our fee.
Ouch! I said for unlike a mouse
I wanted the tree down; Not build a house.
Leap on down to this FREE family event where kids of all ages are going to be delighted! Your child will explore fire trucks, toss bean bags and frisbees, and get up and close with “dinosaurs” and much more!
When: Friday, July 19th, 2019 from 3:00 pm - 7:00 pm.
Address: 2621 Bickford Ave. Snohomish, Washington 98290
A little lizard lived in the sand
Under a rock, in an arid land.
Hiding in the coolness, his hiding site,
Waiting for the darkness, comes the night.
Scurry, scurry, then stop and stare,
Making sure no snake is there.
Find some insects or other food,
Then hurry back to where he stood.
Crawl under the rock, to sleep away
And be ready for a new day.
I'm in the mud up to my knees.
I know that my Mom would not be pleased.
Wiggling my legs, feeling the sea breeze,
I slip out of my boots
As easy as you please,
I now feel mud, between my toes.
The smell of the mud, so not like a Rose,
But more like today, the smell of decay.
I pull up each boot out of the mud,
One at a time and wipe off my feet,
Freeing them of grime. I'll have to
Go clamming again;
Some other time.