Contributor Posts

Working in our garden, shovel in hand,
Digging and turning over this plot of land,
When from out from a pile of Oregon Grape,
I glimpsed a movement, my mouth agape.
A baby Possum was waddling towards me.
It moved very slowly, not sure it could see,
Walked around my feet, then said adieu,
While meandering slowly, from my view.
I have not seen another Possum here,
That moved around, with so little fear.

There is a serenity that comes over me,
When I plant bulbs or plants.
Knowing that they will soon grow tall
And beautify our garden, letting neighbors see,
The colorful display that nature can bring.

The garden is now starting to do,
What Nature's way, wants it to.
Most daffodils are now gone,
The flowers brown and yet,
Foliage is full and soaks up the Sun.
Tulips are lovely, this time of year,
But I see petals, start to disappear.
The bluebells I planted, are budding now,
As I await the beauty, that I somehow
Think will be there, when in full bloom.
If the weather would warm
It would be quite soon.

The Moon is full. The sky is alive,
With that bluish tint, that tries to strive,
To fill our craziest dreams. What is there
About a beautiful view, in the night air,
That brings joy to the children everywhere?
I wish I knew and someday we might,
Bring happiness and joy to all that night.

In this hate filled World,
That we live in.
Is offset with a kindness,
That comes from within.
The act of caring for
A stray dog or cat,
Tells me of the love
For animals,
Is where it's at.

I must write of what I feel,
Else this life may get more surreal.
I have noted that late at night,
A wandering about, without delight,
Searching for answers of a question or so,
When I realize there is more to know.
Thought processes, that once were keen,
Are missing the connection, in between.
She knows that something is wrong,
But can't reason of where it will belong.
It frightens me, in a caring way.
I pray that the morrow, is a better day,
For her.

When a tear, rolls down my cheek
And I have difficulty trying to speak,
I will as a simple question; One,
Is this life we know almost done?
A sadness will come over me then,
As I recall when our love began.

In my dreams, I wait for thee,
Hoping and praying, in my reverie,
You'll look my way and recognize me.
I long to hear that nice hello,
Asking about how my day did go.
In the dream your mine to please,
Unencumbered by this hateful disease.
When I awake and you're not there,
I call for you, looking everywhere.

A river, running fast and free,
Over rock and logs, towards the sea.
The sound I hear, in my mind,
Are those of love's forgiveness, in kind.
A view of life's great travail,
Knowing that our love will sail,
Out of the darkness, on this night,
Comes the sound of love, in flight.

I think of you and I pretend
That we are friends, once again.
You know me as I know you.
Our friendship grew as did you.
We drifted apart, I don't know why
But I am willing, to once again try
To be that friend, you want me to be.
An arms length friend, is what I see.

Outside Moscow, Idaho,
By Clarkia and Elk River,
The forest majesty, is in view.
Under the tall canopy of trees,
Are massive Fern Glades.
The view is not cluttered with
Brush and you can plainly
See the grandeur of these
Trees, quiet serenity
Is what I felt. A religious moment.

There is a kindness, I see in thee,
Your reaction, when a young child you see.
You will stop and compliment, to the Mother,
About the cuteness of the outfit or another.
Nice words, that becomes this legacy,
Of the love you have, doing this part
Defines to me, your beautiful heart,