Morning mist over Molly`s,
a late August gold haze.
Crossing hay fields of Danville,
Cabot`s meadows and maze.
A spoon dips the honey,
apple cinnamon rolls,
sippy straws in a back pack,
empty cereal bowls.
Red leaf in the maple,
a yellowing white birch,
chicken pies in the oven,
Thursday night at the church.
A blue ribbon Bessie,
the taste of fried dough,
bloomin` onions in Tunbridge,
4 H best of show.
The holly hocks have risen,
soon the purple mums bloom,
and there`ll be frost on the butternut,
under full harvest moon.
Categories:
danville, august, autumn,
Form: Pastoral
You can feel,
but no longer find
the love
Surrounding,
no longer inside
the love
Remembering,
you cannot forget
the love
Lingering,
you wander in search
—of love
(Danville Pennsylvania: January, 2021)
Categories:
danville, love,
Form: Free verse
There once was a blacksmith at Danville
Who made so much noise on his anvil
That the neighbors, one day,
Quietly hauled it away,
And bulldozed it into the landfill.
Categories:
danville, children, funny, on work
Form: Limerick