Perhaps it's the boy, in this old man,
That plays in dirt when ever he can.
By playing, I mean, out in the yard,
Where a love of gardening, is not hard,
But a desire to see plants to keep growing.
No matter the fact that it soon will be snowing,
I found that I do not like a Fall chore
Of raking leaves, waiting, then raking some more.

The story was...
From out of the heavens, it did fall.
A mysterious object, that's what I recall.
It wasn't located for many a year,
So the search, no longer did appear,
When by chance, on a Spring day,
It was discovered by children at play.
The object, was oblong, three feet in length
And took several children, using their strength,
To hoist into a wagon, a Radio Flyer.
The wagon was pulled through rock and mire,
Arriving home, where the dirt was hosed off.
Washing away they heard a small cough;
Now getting louder, from this space thing,
When the object suddenly began to sing.
Getting out tools, a gentle process began.
Suddenly there appeared a small little man.
A man/woman, unlike you or I.
The small creature then uttered a sigh
And said in a unique, accented tongue.
"Are you adults? For you appear very young."
This creature was thin like an axe.
For practical purposes, we named it Max.
We kept Max hidden, long after that,
It's size was about like a feral cat.
Many days and nights became years.
The lesson learned, was Harness Your Fears.
Max is gone now, I don't recall how,
But the lessons learned, we could use now.
That's our story, so in the end
Let's call it a happening. Let just pretend.

A double Impatiens,

Morning quiet, soft as
a whisper,
silently, as it breaks from
the dark.
Lighter and brighter, slowly
the dawning,
shadows receding creep
on the ground.
Sunlight enlightens the
soft subtle colors
as darkness relinquishes it's
hold and night
slips away.