Say what you want
Believe what you will
We have trouble
On the DC hill.

Of all the jobs, that had no fuss,
Was when I drove a yellow school bus.
It was a Superior body on a Kenworth frame.
A rear engine, seventy six passenger, it came,
With the drivers seat, at the front end.
When I turned a corner, I did extend
Out to the other side of the street
And that, in itself was an exiting feat.
Our job, was to pick up all kids
And take to the schools , which we did.
Afternoons, we would go to each school,
Taking them all home, that was the rule.
Dropping off the kids at homes, far and near,
When I looked up into the big mirror,
I saw this small head, above the seat,
So I went back to the Barn, to repeat
My story to my boss and he did say.
We need to take him home, right away.
It was his first day, going to school,
Missed his stop and I broke the rule.

The tip of a plant
Pushes through the snow,
Telling of growth below.
A warming Sun can't
Hurt, that I know.
As the weather warms,
There are seeds to sow
For new plants to grow.

The moonlight with off colored white,
Brightens the layer of ground covered snow.
White wisps of clouds, interrupt the light
That are reflected in the shadows below.
It is truly a most marvelous sight.
A look from my window, with tired eye
realizing that sunrise is nigh.
The Moon slowly moves from my sight
as the World abounds with false daylight.
Little to say, on this grayest of days,
Except the approach of Spring does amaze.

It is what it is and yet
I tell you I will never forget,
The Call of the Wild, in my veins
As sure as I recall, Seattle rains.

Noise in the street
Snow plow on the move
Finally

The frog hid, beneath the lily pad.
Staying out of sight of a stalking bird.
He remained quiet, as he should
For a Blue Heron was in the pond,
wading, watching and moving along.
Rippling the water, to see frog or fish,
Finding food, it's fondest wish.
It needed food to survive this day
To remain a beautiful, prehistoric,
Bird of Prey.

I hurt and ache
for goodness sake.
Flu shot had,
was good to do,
not so the flu.
Get lots of sleep
and liquids too.
It's best if
that's what you do.

The life we led is with us still,
Encumbered by much angst and ill will.
What do we do, at this point in time,
Is pour a glass of red or white wine.

Some say it is a talent that I've got.
Others might say my talent is naught.
Full of flaws, that are open to see
Except the love for my family.