~ Saturday Morning, June 9th ~




So still and quiet the early morn
not a leaf stirring, how pale the sky
not a cloud near or far, only the pale blue sky
just me and my thoughts and
that dang cooing dove


Miller moths all about
wish they would all go south
wait a twig move, then a leaf
now a whole limb begins to dance


Car goes down the road
some going to work, serving others breakfast
two golden finches hopping about
one red one chirping loudly


Just another morning on the lane
me with a cup in hand out checking the drip systems
today should be the trees on the lane
Siberian elms which the deer won’t eat


Another day on McAllister Lane
another day in my life
calm, serene, sedate I am
at peace with myself and my surroundings.



By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)

 


 



~ Nature ~


Today, Saturday, June 9th I saw my hummingbird at its feeder, along with pigeons and sparrows. I feed them everyday. It will be 102 degrees today and a bit windy they say.


By Amy (fabulousfilly@aol.com)

 


 



~ Nature ~


Light winds cooled off the early morn
Lake view through branches peeking
Birds flying in to nearby trees
Seeds they probably are seeking


Ground squirrel with tail all a fluff
Scurries from hither to there
Buzzard soaring in clear blue sky
Seemingly without a care


Purple sage in blossom this day
Enticing to every bee
Laughed when I spied a Papa Quail
Perched in Palo Verde tree


Peter Rabbit and his good friend
Chasing each other in street
All of these desert friends bring me
Such pleasures ever so sweet



By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)

 


 



~ A Child of Nature ~


Being a child in the 40’s
I played a lot outdoors
In the street or countryside
I was never ever bored.
Nature provided us with fun
For goose grass we would throw
Then we would all stand and laugh
When it stuck on people’s clothes.
If you picked a dandelion
They say you would wet the bed
So we would play ‘dandelion clock’
That is where you blow the seed head.
We would hold a buttercup
Under our friend’s chin.
So if they did like butter
A yellow glow, was on their skin.
Some people could even blow
On a blade of grass, held tightly
But no matter what I did
I could never do it properly.
Conkers in autumn, a favourite game
But mine always got a bashing
I always played against my brother
And my conkers, he was always smashing.
If we got stung by nettles
We would have to find a dock leaf.
So we then rubbed the hurting part
Which always gave relief.
Sitting in the long green grass
Making lovely daisy chains
We would sit for ages
And no one ever complained.
We’d search high and low
For the elusive four leaf clover
Convinced that if we found one
We could wish, so we’d look all over.
We would pick and eat blackberries
That we’d find among the bushes
Mum would sometimes make us jam
And to think they were free from ditches.
These were pleasures and pastimes
And we had many an adventure
It was so safe for us to wander
So we were children of nature.



By Doreen (Traveller94@hotmail.com)

 


 



~ Nature ~


I sit here at my window and watch the squirrels
There are four of them, and they run and whirl
Two are big and fat and they don't run as fast
As the two little ones who always outlast
their parents, who have run up the tree
Spread eagled on a branch, tired out you see
I throw them some bread every once in awhile
I imagine they look up at me and smile
When the black walnuts fall I save for cold weather
Although they themselves the walnuts gather
They're my journey with Nature, through my window I see
And they'll never know the pleasure that they give to me.



By susi (Texaswishr@aol.com)

 


 



~ You Speak to Me ~


You speak to me,
In this temple place,
Where lovely doves watch from rafters,
And little squirrels race.


My heart is filled with gratitude,
As leaves twinkle like diamonds
In the cool morning sun,
They whisper, and


Their whispers hold the years gone by,
When saplings reaching to the sky,
Only strong enough to hold a sparrow,
And shade small children from hot summer arrows.


Now new winged children make egg filled nests
Where mothers anchor their primordial love,
Until they must teach their babes how grown-ups act,
And faithfully send them into a hostile world.


With Your hymns in the breeze for their safety.



By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

 


 



~ LITTLE FEET ~


I study them enchanted,
The birds that perch on the next door roof,
Little red heads, ruffled feathers,
Tweeting, singing, communicating,
They disappear off and on into
A vent below the roof
From which small chirps emanate,
They guard their young with ferocity
Flying to deter unwelcome
Guests close to the nest.
They land on the aluminum roof
And the scrabble of their little feet
Sounds like raindrops.



By Cottagelady (patience@bresnan.net)

 









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