A Poem in My Pocket

For several years there has been a poem that I keep in my notebook - which frequently is the only thing even slightly resembling a pocket that I carry around with me. It has a copyright so I am simply going to provide you with the link... The Unwritten by W. S. Merwin.

For More Poetry Thursday

Silence

Momentary hush
resounding as the thunder
bringing sudden death

Cooper's Hawk

Serenade

Morning serenade
drifting through my slumber
Wren at my window

One Deep Breath Sound of Music

Terse Verse

open door

reveals
chaos

rummaging for a
midnight snack

Coffee or Tea

Fragrant aromas
mixed with sympathetic friendship
morning perfection

For more poetry visit One Deep Breath

August Words

Wanted - August Words

I have been searching
high and low
under the beds,
in my drawers
even through my important papers
I have scratched my head
and searched my thoughts
but
nowhere can I find the words….

Words …
they are special words I need
not the words of daily language
but words
to describe a glorious August day

Oh for the words to share
the thoughts and feelings that come
after weeks of sweltering heat
a cleansing rain
and a morning of
clear blue skies
decorated with whisps of soft clouds.

The sun’s rays are more gentle today
they set the woods to glowing
I do not miss the sizzling heat of yesterday
I revel in the breeze coming through my open window

There is a quiet in the house
air conditioners and fans have been shut off
there is a forgotten joy in pulling up a comforter
to ward of the chill of early morning.
I can relish the bugling of the blue jays
as they greet the day

The air is filled with music of the cardinal,
the chickadee, nuthatch, goldfinch and titmouse
I hear the buzzing of the bumblebee
and even the twittering of the hummingbirds
as they move from monardia to late foxglove blossoms.

A thousand greens fill the woodland
providing a backdrop for the rich glory of August
Goldenrod, Queen Anne’s Lace,
Oh for the words
I would write a song
or perhaps a poem
a day such as this
seems to call for a sonnet.

How I would love to tell you
the beauties of this day
if only I had
the words!

8/5/2006

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore
There is a society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more.
--Lord Byron

Curious Neighbor

Soft gentle creature of the night
how silently you move
naught but a silhouette
drifting beneath the moon.

What delight to catch a glimpse
of your fleeting shadow
from my window
as you nibble seeds
at my feeder.

I search the woods in vain
For your abiding place
Do you nest in a hollow tree?
Is your home snug beneath a dark branch?
Where is your hidden nest?

We seldom pass
you a night wanderer
and I a creature of the light.
Yet today we share an unexpected meeting

We stare at one another
in curious wonder
I see your big eyes
your long whiskers
and soft gray-brown fur.

In daylight
We meet as shy neighbors
and I treasure
the knowing
that you live close by me.

Southern Flying Squirrel Glaucomys volans
For more about the Flying_squirrel

Bees & Sunflowers

The hum of bees is the voice of the garden. - Elizabeth Lawrence
"The honey-bee's great ambition is to be rich, to lay up great stores, to possess the sweet of every flower that blooms. She is more than provident. Enough will not satisfy her,
she must have all she can get by hook or crook." - John Burroughs

For to the bee a flower is a fountain if life
And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love
And to both, bee and flower,
the giving and the receiving is a need and an ecstasy.
- Kahlil Gibran

August Heat

"What dreadful hot weather we have!

It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance."

- Jane Austen

Heat ----
Last winter I thought of the beauties of a warm summer day --- The garden overflowing with vegetables and flowers – water sparkling in the pond. Today I am grateful for a roof over my head, for the air conditioner and a cool place to sit out of the reach of the sunshine. How I feel for the poor woodland creatures – they come early to search for tidbits around the yard then head for the deep woods where they find shade to lay down and pant and wait for the cool of evening. I sit inside and pant and also long for the cool of evening.

August rushes by like desert rainfall,
A flood of frenzied upheaval,
Expected,
But still catching me unprepared.
Like a matchflame
Bursting on the scene,
Heat and haze of crimson sunsets.
Like a dream
Of moon and dark barely recalled,
A moment,
Shadows caught in a blink.
Like a quick kiss;
One wishes for more
But it suddenly turns to leave,
Dragging summer away.
- Elizabeth Maua Taylor