Tag Archives: poem

A Flicker of Light

Sitting in the dark in my living room at about 6:30 this morning, I was surprised by the contrasting colour of the two levels of clouds — one layer of light gray and one of very dark gray. It gave me the shivers to think of the wind and rain that were coming our way.

I was not disappointed. It blew and dumped rain on us. Once the moisture had been thrown into our faces, the clouds lifted (that’s not the same as going away) and the sky brightened up.

The flicker looked up from his perch in the black walnut tree and called to his buddy who had just flown away, “What do you think, Dear? Is this it for today, or is there more coming? Should we find a more sheltered tree to peck on?”

 

Flicker eyes the roiling sky

Shakes himself and gives a cry,

Shudders at the force of storm,

Sodden feathers, not the norm.

Hoping sun comes shining through,

Flicker asks, “What will I do?

If the next storm is as wild

While I’m wishing it were mild.

Friends will fly away from here, 

I’ll be left alone, I fear.

Wait! I see a glimpse of sun.

Surely I’m the happy one.”

The Holly and the Maple

No, it’s not “The Holly and the Ivy,” but close enough. I noticed that the maple’s leaves got hung up on the holly tree below it, and the muse tickled the keyboard once again.

The maple sheds a coat that weaves

And floats towards the ground,

Hanging up on prickly leaves

Of holly all around.

 

The holly says, “I thank you, dear,

I’m shivering with cold.

When winter nights are chill and clear

Your leaves my warmth will hold.

 

And decorated, too, am I

Just like a Christmas tree.

My berries red will catch the eye

And all will look at me.

 

But you, dear maple, what of you?

Your scrawny arms are chill.

There’s nothing more that you can do.

So pray for you, I will.

 

Be steadfast through the winter gale,

Be tough as you can be,

Till new green leaves your arms regale

With pride and majesty.”

 

 

 

 

Volunteers

My garden had a lot of volunteers this year, especially the poppies. So many stuck their heads up when I called for help in the jungle of my garden, that I couldn’t decide which ones to choose and which to deny. Here are two,  the first of many that I hope to post as time goes on.

I’m royal purple says the queen,

Most regal that you’ve ever seen.

I come from tall and stately stock,

My “white and purple” says I rock.

 

I’m one of those from Flanders’ Fields

Remembered well, my power shields

The fallen from forgotten sleep

As every year, I watch do keep.

Alberta’s Wild Rose

Rosa acicularis, the wild rose, was named the provincial flower of the province of Alberta in 1930. It grows in most parts of Alberta and brightens up the landscape with its delicate fragrance and  colourful blooms.

Dotted with delicately scented flowers, the foliage is thick and thorny, making an almost impenetrable hedge, to the joy of small birds trying to escape predators.

This day, the sunlight was too bright for the true soft pink of the roses to show  in the hedge below.

 

The wild rose speaks:

My name is Rose, but I am told,

My fragrance may not be so bold,

Yet it’s as sweet e’en if my name 

Were something else, and quite mundane.

“A rose by any other name … “

My soft scent would be just the same.

My petals delicate and pale

Disperse aromas without fail.

The thick protective hedge I’m on

Will guard against the evil one.

My thorny branches scratch and tear

At anyone who passes there.

Sleeping Beauty’s castle stood

Enveloped in protective wood

With thorns to cut and make afraid

All  those who would assault the maid.

But after all those hundred years

I’m still around, for you, my dears.

 

The Lookout

The Captain has been working on the hull of the boat at the annual haulout. He’s had to take the boat to a haulout facility several hours’ run from home.

The work is nearly done and I think he’ll soon be home.

Do you think that could be him coming into the bay, Mr Robin?

Well, Admiral Anneli, I can be your lookout. I’ve got a good view here, but I don’t know…. I see a boat, but it could be anybody.

I sure hope it’s him. The lawn needs mowing. I need him to come home.

I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. Could be anybody. Lots of boats around here.

 

It’s a fishboat, but it’s too far away to tell if it’s the Captain. No … maybe not ….

I’ve got good eyes, but I can’t see that far. I’m not an eagle, you know.

What do you see now? Are you looking around the corner?

Yes … I’m just making sure he finds his way into the harbour.

Can’t be the Captain then. He knows his way, no problem.

Probably not him then. Better get that lawn mower fired up yourself.

So Admiral, when do you think he’ll be home then?

Oh, any time now. Soon….

Harrumpfff! Why don’t you just mow that lawn before it rains? Don’t you know it’s harder for me to find worms when the grass gets too long? My children are depending on me to bring them food.

That’s the last time I’m going to bother worrying about the Captain coming home. I don’t care who cuts the grass as long as it gets done. I need access to those worms.

I only stopped to rest my wings

And not to worry over things.

The railing seemed a perfect place

I stood there tall with style and grace.

A fishing boat was cruising past,

Perhaps the Captain, home at last.

The Admiral needs a helping hand

To cut the grass that’s on their land.

It suits me fine to have him back

As things ’round here are kind of slack.

Let’s hope the next boat in the bay

Will be her Captain home to stay.

For a while….

After the Rain

This morning when I did my walk

I had to brave the rain.

I trotted like a racehorse 

Just to hurry home again.

Once in the door, my feet were wiped,

A towel rubbed me dry.

I lay down on my usual place 

And let out a big sigh.

Then came my treat, a nice warm throw

Just taken from the dryer.

The toasty warmth was better than

A rocker by the fire. 

I snuggled in and closed my eyes

The people smiled at me.

I didn’t move a muscle and

Was quite content, you see.