golden sun rises
through webworm's web on pecans....
crows wait harvest
I sat in a cellar, cold and dank
writing poetry that you said, "stank";
so now, I sit in a Left Bank cafe,
on a fine and fresh Spring Day,
where I turn to a colorful bird,
looking for a lyrical word,
but nothing issues from his beak.
Yet, suddenly, "Voila - Eurek" -
I hear my sandwich speak.
Tasty if you cook it right
ultimate gobbler
reminds me of Thanksgiving
kindly do not let me write this to my sister….
everyone has not experienced a turkey but you did because
you married two of them
O my goodness me ! Seriously !
I'm not going to eat that worm ~
I'm a born again vegetarian !
AP: 1st place 2026
Seabirds, like Albatross,
skim the waves of open
sea dipping down to nab
small fish then fly away.
Shall I be compared to
Shearwaters -- eating at
Smithy's Seafood Buffet?
Cock-a-doodle doo.
I smell you.
Oven baked; pan fried.
Shake n' bake; even brined.
Any type will do.
Chicken, I love you.
"Why do you tell me to pound sand,
and say, 'A potato by another name is just as bland'?
If you will never take my hand,
would you, at least, eat me as we'd planned?"
"Do you take me for a peasant?
For me, potatoes are not pleasant,
and I must tell you that, at present,
I much prefer to dine on pheasant."
They hedge their bets
Mimicking long fallen leaves
Swaying in Winter’s cold
Soaking up the faint sunshine
Waiting for the door to open
The “waiter” to appear
Immediate “seating” for all
A medley of favorites
Cast before them
A twittering of thanks
A weary eye for the hawk
And on to a bustling buffet
Served on the pristine white
Of last night’s coating of snow
I am a Date Palm. Winds may threaten, bend and
and snap back my trunk; nests between my frondy
bonnet yet remain firm -- from me, the palm, feathered
survivors have learned, resilience; and the selfless nature
of lofty giving. Dates ripen, young chirping for their meal.
Mothers not having far to travel. One can say, I am bed
and breakfast service. No need to call and wait for market
delivery. Lookout of the desert, mast and sail of the sandy
dunes. When comes the wind I whistle a nurturing tune. Such
music both lullaby and grateful prayer. Proud member of Club Oasis.
Appears a pigeon at leisure
nonchalantly walking hopping from table to table
~ looking for attention and treats
AP: 1st place 2025
high up in the sky
scouring the field for its food
the red hawk circles
Consider the pigeon
It’s been itchin’
for a smidgen
of recognition
So it started
a bird-feed kitchen
That no bird die
of malnutrition
(A Pensee Poem Form Used)
a fern
asparagus
created by our Savior
for human's food, birds' food, beauty
perfection in nature
Altho' fearless it was flightless
I do declare
and when it found itself earthbound
was the dodo despondent in despair
or even think
it would become extinct
if it knew it was in
deep doo-doo
somewhat akin
to the the missing link
unafraid of man
who thought them dumb
as they come
on the quiet
an easy prey for sailors
a whole new different dinner diet
but there was nothing to be done
for suspiciously delicious
history they could never outrun
or ever leave Mauritius
two Robins scurry
stop and go across the lawn
worm lunch in their beaks
Heidi Sands
4/30/25
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