You Make Me Laugh, Giraffe!

I don't know if any of you have been following the progress of the pregnant and soon-to-give-birth giraffe named April at the Animal Adventure Park in Harpursville, NY, but I've heard so much about her lately, that I thought I'd write a poem about giraffes. I took the photos in this post the last time I visited the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium in Columbus, Ohio.

You Make Me Laugh, Giraffe!

You make me laugh, giraffe,

with your cherry picker neck 

sticking way up in the trees,

yet you are graceful 

when you amble about

on your spindly legs and knobby knees.

You have a long-reaching tongue 

that's purplish-black,

and a tail like a paintbrush

to swish the flies off your back.

Up high you have expressive brown eyes,

so gentle and sweet.

Way down below you have

 four clompy, stompy feet.

Your markings are unique,

unlike any other creature.

Spot and dots--you have lots!

They may be your best feature.

You have the best view around

from your outlook in the sky.

You make me laugh, giraffe!

I think God created you

with a twinkle in his eye.

*   *   *   *   *

On another topic, I'd like to thank Robert Lee Brewer from Writer's Digest for including my poem, "F0ol," as one of his top 21 favorites submitted to his poem-a-day challenge (the 2016 April PAD Challenge). He announced the results on his blog on March 21, 2017. He has already begun the 2017 PAD Challenge, and it's not too late to join in for anyone who wants to be a part of it. The challenge began on April 1st and will continue throughout the month. Each day during April, he will provide a poetry prompt to give his readers some inspiration. Please visit his blog if you would like to join in the fun. 

Waiting

Waiting

Spring is a fickle trickster.

She tiptoes by,

peeks in the windows,

curls her finger at us,

and tempts us outside

with bouquets of sunny daffodils.

She seduces us 

with trails of purple crocuses 

lifting their bobbing heads

in the warm sun.

Transfixed, we step out 

with smiles wide

to follow her

and soak in her light.

Then she smirks and spins,

and in an instant,

she turns a cold shoulder to us.

She disappears and abandons us

in a whirlwind,

leaving drifts of snow behind

to drape around

the drooping blooms.

Yet, in spite of her rejection,

we wait for her return.

Point of View

Point of View

With whiskers quivering, the tiny, grey mouse

searches for seeds under the sticky milk pod.

Soon there will be no tall, green weeds.

No clover, no Queen Anne's Lace, no goldenrod.

Although the mouse is blissfully unaware,

a "SOLD" sign has been put up on the lot.

It is the last empty lot in the housing development.

Sales in the area have been running hot.

Soon the bulldozer will come

to dig a foundation for a new house.

No one will care or worry about

the tiny, grey, displaced mouse.

Oh I know, some will say, "This is progress!

A family will have a brand new house."

I'm sure that family will think it's progress,

but I bet you a dollar, no one will ask the mouse.

The Gift

The Gift

Christmas packages 
stacked neatly
underneath the tree,
some for the boys,
some for the girls,
a few for you, a few for me.

All of them are wrapped neatly
in green, red, gold, and blue,
filled with surprises,
bringing joy,
making dreams come true.

But none of these gifts,
not a single one,
wrapped in shiny papers and bows,
matters at all, not at all, 
compared to the gift
of the newborn Christ child
wrapped in swaddling clothes.


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!

Saturday Morning Simplicity

Saturday Morning Simplicity

She struggles to surface 
from the soft sea of sleep.
Sunshine sneaks through 
the slats surreptitiously.
She stands and stretches 
and slides into a robe made of silk.
(She has an affinity for this slippery amenity.)

In the kitchen, she serves herself 
a slice of sugared, cinnamon bread. 
She smiles at her spouse (still sleepy). 
Sitting at the table, he is cradling
in his hands a cup of strong coffee.
Together they soak in easy serenity.

She savors the sweetness of the bread 
between sips of steamy sassafras tea.
In sync, they share a comfortable silence 
in this, their Saturday morning simplicity. 

Never Alone

Never Alone

The little girl gets lost in her books,
giving no thought to the way she looks.
She perches sideways or upside down in her chair,
her arms akimbo, her legs in the air.

Snug in her quiet, cozy spot,
she submerges herself in the twisting plot.
Her friends are the characters on the page. 
She watches them live and dream and grow and age.

She sees them struggle and make mistakes.
Other times, they get all the breaks.
Their lives fill hers and become her own.
They are always around. She is never alone.
                                                        

Retreat

Retreat

I'm overwhelmed

by my list of things to do.

Instead of doing more,

I need to escape,

relax, unwind, renew.

I need to find respite

in nature's soothing balm.

I need to stroll in the garden

and check on the mums.

Let the cool breeze make me calm.

I need to listen to seed pods rattle

and leaves rustle in the air.

I need to hear squirrels chatter

and blue jays shriek

as they issue each other a dare.

I need to feel the sun

warm on my skin.

I need fresh air to breathe,

 releasing the stress, 

stopping the spin.

I need to center my thoughts 

on the yellow begonias

and the flitting honey bees.

I need to sit and spend some time

in the shade of the maple trees.

I need to watch the clouds

drift by in the sky.

I need to clear my mind

and set free my spirit

before I give life's chores another try.