An orange leaf tinged yellow-gold am I -
twirled happily up in the autumn air
with comrade leaves. I dance beneath blue sky.
An orange leaf tinged yellow-gold am I.
Above - a sleek black white-tailed bird glides by!
Below me, all the earth is bright and fair.
An orange leaf tinged yellow-gold am I -
twirled happily up in the autumn air.
They organized a church bazaar,
To raise money for the poor.
A booth for selling chances
Was set up, outside the door.
When I bought the raffle ticket,
My reasoning was murky,
And I could only just believe it,
When I won that doggone turkey.
Now, the kids were all excited
When we brought the critter home.
So we placed him in the barnyard,
Where he'd have lots of room to roam.
Since the date was late October,
I'm quite sure you understand,
That to have him for Thanksgiving
Was my awe inspiring plan.
Well, the turkey was no birdbrain,
As I was very soon to find.
That bird knew what I was thinking;
Why, I declare, he read my mind.
I let the children care for him,
To my most profound regret--
He turned on his charming manner,
And, quickly, he became their pet.
But that fact did not deter me,
I told myself it didn't matter.
I was dead set and determined
To see that gobbler on a platter.
When the kids perceived my purpose,
They turned on the tears and pleas.
Then, the wife joined in their chorus,
And that brought me to my knees.
So I told my grieving family
They could dry up, and relax.
I concealed my disappointment--
Went and put away the axe.
Came the dinner of Thanksgiving,
Not a sad face could be found.
And our live Thanksgiving turkey
Was the gladdest bird around.
We gathered around the table,
And I humbly asked the blessing--
While Tom gobbled down his corn, outside,
We had hotdogs and dressing.
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
A robin perches on a bough
While crimson drapes are drawn with night,
The season’s hours come, to allow
First call of springtime’s pure delight.
Petals awake from winter’s grim;
Alive with buds yearning to brim.
There is a softness in mid- air
Birds have rhapsodies to share,
Nocturnal shaded woodlands calm
Release their scented dew-laced balm
To gentle hour that's sure to bring;
The wispy glide of tails winging.
charmed by feathered treat
twitters fade in morn...
the birthing of groves replete!
Sheri Fresonke Harper's Three Stanza Suite
Quatrain, couplet, haiku
by nette onclaud
And now the weeping willow turns to green.
So brilliant red, the robin’s breast,
Just like the sun, now sinking in the West,
And down the lane more signs of spring are seen :
The spiky blackthorn blossom’s shining white –
It looks as if the hedgerow’s decked with snow.
Beneath, the peeping primrose seems to glow
With luminous and creamy lunar light.
Come hear the soaring skylark’s tuneful song
And listen to the jackdaw’s chimney chat.
See squabbling sparrows startled by the cat
As through the undergrowth he slinks along.
We mark these signs of Spring so early in the year,
But damage from late frosts may dash our hopes I fear.
red shining nectar
the hovering hummingbirds
woman sweeps the porch
I do not know?
The calming sounds of birds chirping fills the air,
The smell of flowers just beginning to bloom,
The sight of the green coming back to the grasses life,
The feeling of being engulfed by a blanket of sun,
Spring has arrived.
The sound of lackluster lawn mowers starting back up,
The smell of fresh food being grilled on the patio,
The sight of sun rays beaming through the sky,
The feeling of riding around with your windows down,
Spring has arrived.
The sound of wood crackling in a toasty bonfire,
The pleasant smell of freshly cut grass,
The sight of waves crashing along the shoreline,
The feeling of having a slight breeze on a nice day,
Spring has arrived.
The sound of children back playing outside,
The smell of fresh rain caked to the air after a storm,
The sight of birds darting through the crisp air,
The feeling of cold lake water touching your feet,
That's when you can tell,
Spring has arrived.
Its three PM Australia day
The day’s as hot as Hell
The budgies chirp delightfully
There’s a ringing like a bell
As the breeze kisses the wind chimes
And that sky, electric blue
It sends those sun beams crashing down
It’s damned hot! I tell you.
The world is wilting, woefully
Some plants look fit to die
That burning ball of energy
Above there in the sky
It tells the world “I’m here, I’m here!!”
As it flames with heavens power
And on the Rose shrubs in the yard
There just be dried up flowers.
It’s summer time, down under
One hundred plus degrees
I’m drinking beer and waiting, here
To feel that cooling breeze
That comes here after noon is done
To give the heat some ease
Then just a few short hours from now
The dusk might bring release
Nature’s Single Dad:
The Australian Emu :
The first 55 days
Emund is busy
partners who’ll put
him to the test.
His pedigree line
has proven with time
that it is now his
turn, to be best.
He hears them emerge
from the bush as
they gather in
answer to nature’s
They dance, and then
go away, they know
they cannot stay;
there is not enough
food for them all.
They dip and they
weave as they mingle
that each has a
With his reputation,
there is no
he is ready to join
in the dance.
‘Bonk! Bonk,’ comes
the sound of another
Emulena!’ he says
with a grin.
Others move to the
side as he leaves
to greet this dancer
as she flounces in.
rhythmic movement of
hips she fluffs up
her boa, it bounces
He matches her mood.
His movements are
as they twist and
twirl in their
He does not fuss
about who takes the
lead, he follows and
their dance now is
With steps that are
light he glides to
he meets her, bows
“Sorry, we cannot
stay longer, we all
must find paddocks
It matters not
whether we all stay
we trust you to know
what to do.”
As she speaks, they
deposit their gifts,
and he hears, as in
chorus they say,
“We know you’ll do
magically, what you
to deliver these in
your own way.”
After completing her
task, Emulena stands
tall and she fluffs
up her feathers once
They follow her lead
in twos, and in
and promenade across
the dance floor.
Left all alone, he
goes back to his
duties and looks
closely at each pale
He checks all for
defects. He sees
they are perfect,
so with care he
covers every one
He sticks to his
task for fifty-five
days in sunshine,
strong winds and
He values each
treasure and tends
them with pleasure
as he, turns each
egg every three
Through his long
lashes he sees
danger coming. He
drops his neck down
like a log.
Feathers flying on
high and red fur
he needs to fool
both bird and dog.
The shells have now
turned a dark bluey
green, there’s an
infertile egg in the
This egg will be
food for his hungry
but he won’t eat or
drink, ‘til they
Each day he looks
up, and turns his
head to the sun as
it rises each
He’ll sit day and
night until the
He knows, that time
to be continued...
THE CHANGING OF THE SEASONS
When summer ends, autumn begins.
The leaves fall from the trees.
Such a beautiful sight and done so spiritually.
Magical is the change of the seasons into the New Year.
I saw a red bird today and enjoyed her chirping.
Gathering food, she was on my window ledge.
Pillared to be quite successful, her tiny wings went a flight.
The red beak is all that was seen as she entered the sky.
Absolutely beautiful is when the leaves fall from the trees.
Summer has ended with autumn’s inception.
I can feel the breeze.
PENNED ON AUGUST 30, 2014!
None can compare.
To the nude silver branches and barren expanses,
That the cool of winter doth bring.
Unless you equate the way the birds sing,
In the start of the fresh, blooming spring.
Or perhaps the warm air,
Filled with crickets’ prayer,
That’s found only in the summer’s afternoon glare.
But then there is the time of the harvest,
With leaves like the paint on the palette of an artist.
Such tender, splendor indeed, in each season is found,
For in Nature, beauty truly doth rise and abound.
Shawnee Doling-Tye 10/6/13
Blue Jay Chill
Snow covers blue jay
Swallow winters up, ice forms
Both merge, beneath, cold
Saw the sun rise
And a pink rose did bloom
Butterflies outside still just play
This morning is so bright and very nice
The sun is warm but air is cool
And birds in the trees sing
Fall's almost here
Dorian Petersen Potter
The Bird Song
Icy fingers from the lake
tenderly caress the dew.
Foggy digits turn to vapor
when the sun comes into view.
Sunlight bursts into the meadow.
Birds sing the song of a new day.
A family of deer finishing up breakfast.
I watch as the fawn begin to play.
Staring at the splendor of nature I'm humbled
by the magnificent day the Lord has made.
I'm reminded of a game of hide n seek as I watch
the sun playfully find the hiding shade.
The trees changing colors tell the season.
As the warmth of summer gives in to the fall.
Time rolling on in sweet harmony.
The bird song a testimony to it all.
As a visitor to this glorious moment
I must give the Lord praise,glory,and fame.
After a fleeting look back at the meadow
I shall go back from whence I came.
silver over cactus thorn
mesquite trees dance
smooth breeze through the sage
ripples on the sand
sunlight melts morning
Blackbird sitting in the dead ash tree;
He's the only blackbird I can see.
Blackbird, I will stare;
Something about you pertains to me.
The brightest spring I've ever seen:
Blossoms white as milk, or cream.
I never thought the grass, I'd miss;
Now, I gaze upon the emerald bliss.
Sheltered by the bluebird sky,
What should chance
To catch my eye?
A lonely blackbird, calm and still;
I watch him from my windowsill.
Birds of a feather flock together?
Not this one, not this bird
With a different song that needs
To be heard.
In the dead tree,
He's the most free.
Perched tall on limb so tranquil, proud,
I draw him out
From feathered crowd.
When I wake, I hear his voice;
Lonely blackbird makes his choice.
Holding my respect,
I wonder of his intellect.
Of all the things he thinks he knows,
Is what shows.
If every bird doth hatch the same,
For another who's to blame?
All blackbirds sing among the green,
But one stands tall
In branches lean.
I watch this bird alone
Pond'ring segregation powers.
Some say laws dictate behavior,
Yet I prefer to call
I do not know?
She frolics on an autumn day
running wild through a blood red glen
the leaves on her train leap up and dance
swirling around her as she sings
to a bird in her hand:
she sings of the butterfly tree.
The bird leaps up
he spreads his wings—
he sours through the fall foliage,
up , up,
to the blue sky beyond
where he warbles upon breeze
to the crimson sun:
he warbles of the butterfly tree.
The sun turns away
to shine among the dark
he courts the quiet shade
chasing away the silver moon
who hides beneath a laughing brook
he flirts among the dappled light
as the world begins to whisper
to the silver shadow ‘neath the brook:
it whispers of the butterfly tree
wing's spread for morning flight
catching the wind at first dawns light
wings take me high , so high i might
see the place to end my flight
soaring above forest grandure green
scenes of mountains and glorious streams
only birds can see these things
for the eye's they were given
were made to be keen
like a bird leaving Noah's Ark
searching for land just a small part
and perhaps a little something to take
back to the Ark
of long gone ancestors i dream
like all birds, i dream
i dream of a bird sitting in a tree
i dream that that bird is waiting just for me
when i land she will not flee
she will have something just for me
there it is the tree
with one lone dove waiting just for me
i'll ascend , like the spirit
of my ancestor before me
that landed upon the Messiah, gently
and rest with her i will not leave
from now on to her i'll cleave
this unhurried walk
through softly undulating,
late summer grass;
from a far-off bough
the winds carry away
of what may have been
the first wakeful bird
of dawn, or the last
drowsy bird of the night!