From My Living Room Window

From My Living Room Window 

From my living room window

From my living room window

This morning I saw drifts of snow
As white as linen, all unsullied
Except by creatures’ gentle footprints.
Such carpet no human tread has bullied.

Outside my window stands a tree
Red Maple, summer red and ruddy.
Now, once-verdant branches, bearing
Wintry white, so spare and stubby.

And still the sky releases beauty,
Chill and distant, flake by flake;
No wind to whip in gusty flurry.
The silent snow its journey makes.

‘Tis lovely; cold and starkly standing
Trees and wires and plump grey pigeons,
All waiting silently ’til someone
Ends the peaceful, frosty religion.

Every day, this view is changing.
The tree, as always, fills my window.
Today, an ecstasy of frosting
Holds my world in snowy limbo.

But then, a winter wind chaotic
Takes from branches, wintry covering.
Someone shuffles down the driveway
Their footprints, mud beneath uncovering

So the world from out my window
Reverts to its normal status,
But I remember and will always
This fleeting moment’s snowy gladness.

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Sonnet to Mourn the Demise of our Legislative Branch

Remember elections when we believed
Whomever we chose went to Washington
Aware we expected them to be brave
To talk to each other when work needs done
Each to respect others’ elected voice
Believe those feel as clearly as they did
The duty placed on them by voters’ choice
And insults, names, and jeers were fair forbid
What disgust we discover in our hearts
To see what our Legislators become
So few agree to play lawmakers’ parts
So many act like spoiled children — dumb
They must be to think we don’t realize
To think that they are grown-ups in our eyes

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Sonnet to our inner prophets

I do not believe John’s Revelation
Projects a lit’ral future time at all.
I never thought Nostradamus’ notions
Were prophecy, though many he’d enthrall.
I do believe th’undaunted human spirit
Is more than capable of knowing truth;
Though not from any other can hear it.
Our hearts provide the necessary proof.
‘Vest faith not in vain and noisome promise,
Nor seek soothsayer’s words, to life apply;
First, turn inward, each to her own conscience,
From which arises hope.  Each soul supplies
That needed hint, the future then to know,
As we, into that destined future go.

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September 1st

September today.
Summer lightly slips away
Into morning fog

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Swimming in Maine, (by a woman who prefers….the Caribbean Sea)

One more reblog about summer in Maine

The Sun Drips Honey

(N.B.) This poem is loosely based on a boat ride I took with my sister S. and her husband, B.  I say loosely, but I mean very loosely, because the only fact is that the water was so cold that after we jumped in, neither S. nor I stayed in long enough to wet the tops of our feet.  Thanks, S. and B.)

Swimming in Maine
(by a woman who prefers to swim in the Mediterranean and Caribbean seas)

I sailed in a boat on the ocean.
To go swimming, I soon got the notion.
When I jumped in to swim,
In cold water so grim,
I yelled and made quite a commotion.

I climbed out, severely aghast,
And the boards were as slippery as glass.
I slipped, hit the deck;
‘Tween the cold and sore neck,
I determined this swim was my last.

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Reprint: The Perfect Summer Day in Maine

This is what I meant to reblog:

The Perfect Summer Day in Maine

I look at sunrise, all ablaze
And then begin to smile.
Today will be one of those days
That make the snow worthwhile.

Clip Art

The birds are very confident
Their notes so sweetly curled
Around my head. I’m fortunate
To live here on this world.

Hot August day, but with the breeze,
I’m comfortable outdoors;
Find magic there, among the trees;
Inhale it through my pores.

A hot, sunny summer day

White cloud shapes form, then scatter free,
A cool and cott’ny sight;
Bright, brilliant, buttery sun, like brie,
I’d love to sneak a bite..

When twilight looms on such a day
And stars replace the sun,
I store, for now, hot summer’s craze.
Oh, I’m a lucky one.

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The Little Things

This is a reblog from September 23, 2012. It seemed appropriate today. Simple, but true. I hope you enjoy

The Sun Drips Honey

A small drop of water
And a small ray of sun
Together make rainbows
When rainstorms are done.

A cupful of grass seed
And the products of cows
Together make lawns
On all sides of the house.

A breeze from the northwest,
And waves from the bay
Make a wonderful backdrop
For all kinds of play

For, in summer, Maine’s better
When little things blend
Into one magic somewhere
Where joys never end.

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