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THOUGHTS OF SPRING

I sat upon a park bench, writing pad in hand,

Enjoying flowering shrubs and warmth upon the land

As cacophony of sound assaults both my ears:

Birds singing, dogs barking, and children’s laughter at play.

 

Then, not one but three lasses appeared

With bonnets and flower baskets at arm.

They wore floral-colored smocks,

Emitting Old World charm.

 

“I see you are a writer, sir,” one said

As her laughter broke the air.

At a loss for words, I simply smiled,

Caught up in her blue-eyed snare.

 

“Please do write us a sonnet,” said the second lass.

“Oh, no, a poem,” pleaded the third.

I smiled at all three,

Completely lost for word.

 

Their little faces in mock pout,

Their dresses so colorful and gay,

Added the finishing touch on the canvas

Of this beautiful, fine Spring Day.

 

I cleared my throat and spoke, “Oh, I suppose,

A line or two I’ll jot of spring-time prose.

With a smile and a thank you, they skipped away, arms interlocked.

As they moved away, I couldn’t help but notice: The flowers matched their frocks.

 

The sun was warm, and the wind was balmy.

White fluffy clouds adorned the sky.

I stretched and yawned like a Cheshire cat,

Releasing a contented sigh.

 

Mother Nature had once again blessed the land,

Calling forth different flowers in abundant array.

While I watched butterflies and birds flit about

On this gorgeous, balmy Spring Day.

Spring tulips

Spring tulips

Spring has sprung!

Spring has sprung!

Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings

Daddy and Momma Mallard with 10 new ducklings

Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings

Daddy and Momma Canadian Geese with 2 new goslings

Double Bearded Iris

Double Bearded Iris

I Am

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

That which refreshes my soul.

That which renews my life.

That which gives life meaning.

That which gives purpose to existence.

 

That which gives center, balance,

Quietly directing our pathways.

That which our consciousness innately

Understands is right or wrong.

 

That which is beautiful from any angle,

In any light, from any distance.

That which cannot be changed, disfigured,

Or transformed into anything but beautiful.

 

That which is true to life forever.

That which lives in truth throughout eternity.

That which brings peaceful serenity

As it strips away falsehoods by knowledge.

 

That which makes the unique, alone,

Thrills us, yet challenges us onward.

That in us which cannot be denied

But accepted and exalted in reverence.

 

The I AM of the Universe, Father of Lights,

The Alpha and Omega, first and last,

Which lived, died, yet lives again forevermore.

That is what we recognize in ourselves! HIM!

 

Glorify His Name in all places, at all times

That your days may be long, your peace steady.

Praise Him in all things, for all blessings.

Place your feet upon the path and follow HIM!

Retreat

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

Rock-covered water,

Cold, chuckling creek

Splashes, tumbles happily,

Almost lulls me to sleep.

Reclining on green grass,

Warm sun on my face,

Nature working magic

Hectic schedules to erase.

Beauty surrounds me —

All surely heaven sent.

Pine-laden air,

Spruce trees generously lent.

Mind relaxed,

Mountains seem to tower.

Each minute thus spent

Prolongs life by an hour.

Red-tailed hawk above

Surveys this lovely span.

Makes one glad to be alive,

Glad to be a man.

I’ll think with sympathy

Of those left far behind,

Facing traffic snarls,

Smog, or waiting in a line.

But, then, they may like neon lights,

Consider it great fun.

I’ll give them a thought anyway

As I soak up the sun.

Dreamwalk

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Softly, I’m borne away on quiet, muffled wings

Of a beautiful butterfly which only I am privileged to see.

Gorgeous multicolored wings gracefully lift me like a feather,

Bringing my spirit to that very special sanctuary

Which is filled with rainbows, solitude and, of course, dreams.

 

Here in this special place,

My imagination paints only with soft colors.

Each tree, shrub, vine or plant produces fruits

And flowers in the seasons of my dreams.

Birds of every species and color grace tree and shrub.

They dart here and there, affording hours of pleasure to the eye.

The soft, sweet music of their song carried on the fragrant air

Brings solace to the inner soul.

The heart is light, dancing from sheer exuberance!

 

Here in my special place, fish bite when fished for,

And grain or fruit grows in abundance when seeds are planted.

Rushing or hurry are strictly forbidden,

And time stands still on command.

Dreams occur in Technicolor, and fantasies are commonplace.

My unfettered imagination is in complete control,

Able to travel into open and distant space instantly.

In my mind, I can visit any continent, country, city or place

At a snap of my fingers.

 

Here, any desire can achieve satisfaction

As soon as it’s realized and identified,

Without worry, pain or regret.

Should none of my earthly desires satisfy,

Then my inner spirit can be nourished

Through simple, quiet, relaxing thought patterns.

Peaceful, serenity reigns in assurance that all is well

And under complete control of my consciousness.

 

 

Tranquillity

This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:

 

Under stout arms of ancient beech,

Beside placid, looking-glass pool,

Lessons that only nature can teach

In the amphitheater of her school.

 

Ripples run out from cast-in stone,

Obstructed, lapse into still serenity.

‘Tis music on the ear as lesson travels home.

We find peace, balance, and complete tranquillity.

Prime Time

This poem is from Autumn Leaves:

Does watching a clear, fast mountain stream

While inhaling sweet, spruce-laden air

Or enjoying quiet serenity of beautiful aspens,

Gazing up at rough-cut grandeur of towering mountains

Cast a therapeutic spell?

The answer is freely available to anyone

Willing to venture out and sample

This boundless treasure.

Worries flow away merrily with the water’s rush.

Troubles vanish like smoke

In the crisp, cool air

Which teases the mountaintops.

Thoughts are free to wander aimlessly

While consuming enormous quantities

Of rich subject matter.

An all-elusive peace enters the dark,

Twisted inner recesses of the subconscious,

Bringing with it freshness and light.

Wild creatures scurry and flit about unconcerned,

As nature spins and weaves,

Displaying her enchanted magic.

An unspeakable sense of joy and well-being prevails,

Engulfing mere mortals,

Sealing the lips to silence,

For to speak might shatter the beautiful, fragile spell.

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