Best Placessky Poems
Between a sky of pale blue, streaked with white,
and a glassy sea of royal blue,
there lies a land of lavender rock,
where wind blown grasses grow in briny
patches around weather beaten houses
brushed in pastel shades of yellow, pink,
and green and blue.
A grey fishing shack stands on silts
beyond the waters edge,
deep in rippling reflections of itself
and the sky that shimmers across the inlet
to the other side, where a dory
tethered to a dock stacked high with reels
of blue and orange ropes and buoys,
rests peacefully in the noon-day sun, with me,
on these long cold winter nights.
~~~~~
It was a pink sky this morning
The sky was streaked with pastel hues
But no bad sailor's warnings
were forecast on the news.
Cool enough to be chilly
Warm enough to desire outside
How great it is to be here
To witness yet another
Uniquely colored sunrise.
I walk down towards the river's bed
You can hear it before its seen
Its one of this state's wonder's
A prime and flush natural trout stream.
The mayflies have just started to hatch
And so it comes as no surprise
When a large brown trout jumps to catch one
His breakfast or lunch can be surmised.
Wading in so slightly
I push my canoe to deeper depths
The grating of its bottom on shallow rocks
This sound, the morning's only distress.
Jumping in and floating
The stream's slow current gives a ride
I trail my oar behind me
Leaving liquid contrails in my stead.
Letting my thoughts wander
As one in nature can often do
I open my mind to reflecting
On things beyond this morning's dew.
I thank my God that I am alive
I thank him for this moment
I thank him for this wonderful place
I reflect on all my blessings
I thank him for this morning and this day.
(January 23, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Route 67 may not conjure up the romanticism of famed Route 66,
Nor does it wend its way across the country or provide you any kicks.
'Tis just a winding mountain road running from Divide to Cripple Creek,
But the splendid vistas that it reveals is what makes it so unique!
Route 67 is eighteen miles of God's glorious Creation to behold!
Aspen trees grace the mountainsides with quaking leaves of gold!
Majestic Pikes Peak glistens with new-fallen snow upon its crest.
The saw-toothed San Juan Mountains reach for the sky to the west.
Old gold mine shafts are strewn about, reminders of shattered dreams.
Seen are tumbling waterfalls and rushing mountain streams.
Eagles soar high above it all on their never-ending quest,
To sate the gaping maws of eaglets in their nest.
A flock of geese land with great aplomb on a nearby tarn to feed.
Silhouetted against the sky are mountain sheep, a very rare sight indeed!
A magnificent elk stood in a grove of spruce, bugling for a mate.
Marmots scurried about gathering winter fare ere it was too late.
Upon arrival in Cripple Creek, I decided to have a little fun.
The slot machines beckoned me and I'm usually a lucky son-of-a-gun!
I fed coins into the slots so furiously that I feared that they would choke!
'Twas a pleasant drive home on Route 67, albeit, I was nearly broke!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)