“What to do? What to do? Which ones should we go after, Dad?”
“That’s a tough one, Son. So many dinners. So little time….
I guess we watch for a cripple, or a loner, like always.”
Shovelers
Folks!
May I
Introduce
The shovelers.
Their bills are special.
Wide with comb-like strainers
They sweep the water’s surface
Back and forth, swishing and slurping,
Straining out plankton and crustaceans,
Cleaning the water as they eat their lunch.
“Whadda ya say, Missus? Wanna go for a swim?”
“Naaaaah. I’m good. Just catchin’ a few rays.”
**Photo by friend, Sonia.
Look but Don’t Touch
A young puppy knows nothing about porcupines and the pain they can inflict just by being there.
Emma bounced around this one in a field, probably wondering why it didn’t either fly away or come out to play.
Ouch!
Needles.
Avoid them.
Time to back off.
Explore somewhere else.
Leave Mr. Porcupine
Or become a pin cushion.
Naivety comes with a price,
But, for once, listen to your elders.
Best not to indulge curiosity.
The Root Cellar
Perhaps it’s not quite like a fridge, but it was a cool place to store the potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and squash.
*Disclaimer – This is not my root cellar but it was on land where I was visiting. The poem is purely fictional (although probably possible).
“Go
Bring back
Potatoes,
Carrots, and squash.
The wicker basket
Is handy to carry
Everything.” — “But, Mom,” I whined,
“It’s so dark in there, and there’s bugs!”
“Nonsense! The bugs are more scared of you.”
Off I went … and of course, I proved her wrong.
The Roundup
Apologies for the fuzzy photos, taken several years ago by this mediocre photographer with a mediocre camera.
You want me to what?
To get up and move?
To get off my butt
And to get in the groove?
A cow hand today
Has no need of a horse,
His ride needs no hay,
It’s a quad ride, of course.
Just fill it with gas
And go roaring around,
No cattle will sass,
And to follow, they’re bound.
There’s always a stray cow
That has to be got,
But magically, ends somehow
In the cow lot.
Birdfeeders
Hawk!
Warnings
are shouted.
Bird seeds are served,
but not for me; still,
hunger motivates me.
Unsuspecting songbirds feed,
inadvertently becoming
my prey, providing me with fresh meat.
Yes! Bird feeders — the balance of nature.
*****
Thanks to Linda for her help with etherees, a poetry form I had not yet tried. Any future tips appreciated. Check it out here:
Lyrebird
This bird is named for its amazing tailfeathers which resemble a lyre, a U-shaped, harp-like instrument. Unfortunately, the video only shows glimpses of the tailfeathers – but the main feature of the clip is to show the mimicry the lyrebird is capable of. They have been heard mimicking other birds, as well as copying sounds like sirens, dogs barking, and even cameras clicking. What a variety!
The video was taken by my friends who visited Australia recently. Lyrebirds are rather shy so this was a lucky capture.
Please turn up the volume for the best results.
Free Lunch
Hungry?
Table is set
Who says there’s no free lunch?
Suet for me and seeds for you
Just right.
P.S. I just figured out why poets are encouraged to write cinquains. It’s to make sure they don’t ramble on too much.
Five lines with 2, 4, 6, 8, and 2 syllables respectively.
Polar Bear Swim
Anyone for a swim? Actually, some people did go in for a Polar Bear swim on January 1.
But there are crazy people in all parts of the world. This limerick is for all those crazy people who went into the freezing water that day and froze their buns off.
*** I did not post a photo of those “brave”? swimmers here.
There once was a man who was dim,
And went for a wintery swim,
He said, “I’m not whiny,
Except that my hiney,
Is paying the price for my whim.”
Uncertainty
wordsfromanneli 