Cloudy sky cold night
Some nice migratory birds
yellow flycatchers
The neat nice lovely hoopoe
White and gray typical shrike!
From atop the great tall sequoias
dragonflies fantasize of summertime;
of warmer mornings and balmy winds,
while dodging flycatchers and bullfrogs.
A lone cicada sings his mating sonnet
upon the ebb and flow of life's circle.
22. Soil Report: February 2nd. The soil broke free with my bare hands. Woke up grubs and startled roots. I can’t wait. They can, a little longer.
23. I can’t wait to hide behind giant sunflowers again!
24. If personality is like a vase, do we simply put pretty flowers in it or break it free into a thousand pieces merging with wild places.
25. Crow’s voice is hoarse from screaming at hawk. Hawk keeps flying higher and higher, laughing.
26. A cat went missing. Then two. Today, the flycatchers sang with a jubilant voice: “Thank you hawk!”
27. Another riddle: Who has a different voice walking on four and then two legs?
28. Soil Report: February 26th. Black soil yielding to my four sisters planting.
In the depth of the night, a concerto commenced,
With drums of thunder and a melody of rain.
Wind flutes played loud sniveling notes,
Carrying pulsating tunes in blustery tones.
Streaks of lightening, with their baton of light,
Led the blasting orchestra with dynamic might.
Trees swayed wildly, leaves scattered with force,
Rain soaked the paths, shattering dense shadows.
As dawn tiptoed, with the sun’s gentle caress,
Melodic whistles, cheeps and croaks took the stage.
Blue bonnets danced, greeting butterflies and bees,
Jays and cardinals capered under the radiant trees.
Hummingbirds frolicked around the buds of paintbrush,
Grackles called out in an enthusiastic rush.
Scissor-tailed flycatchers hovered, tails unfurled,
Charmed their mates with their squeaks and chirrs.
Pinkladies and Firewheels in their spectacular array,
Welcomed the day, luring pollinators their way.
The storm disappeared, giving way to a tranquil zephyr,
Joyfulness prevailed, in awe of Mother Earth’s endeavor.
Letter chosen "V"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Virtuoso
Carnelian dawn reflects red sun rising,
Mirrors glow of vermillion flycatchers,
With scarlet plumage, so mesmerizing,
Dawn’s songbirds – virtuoso stature.
Flight song resounds through the still morning mists,
Woodland thickets embrace the day song,
Artists on wings with bright feathers flame kissed
Warble sweet aves on garnet birdsongs.
Vigil for daybreak in tones cinnabar
Matins’ maestros in morning’s sung prayers,
Amber strains from coquelicot popstars,
Lauds for the Daystar ring through newborn airs.
Cloaked in vermillion at evening's first light,
Songbirds wait to sing in red-orange delight.
flycatchers flitting
shifting dappled canopy~
saplings catching spots
Cold cobalt skies unfold their lanky limbs
The sovereign land awakes in zealous time
Where low mesquites abide the feral winds
Defiant blooms the lupine in its prime
Rainbugs dot the earth in velvet red
Ant lions quietly lurk in lethal lairs
Dirt daubers cast organ pipes overhead
Mockingbirds merrily try out their airs
Scissor-tailed flycatchers' semaphores flash
Silent songbirds seem incited to sing
The wispy wraith of Winter whispers past
And harbingers heady heralds of Spring
Petrichor, the smell of rain on dry ground!
Bluebonnets, the sweetest sight to be found!
Do not skulk, my mother said, sternly, meanly, and often.
How could I not? I asked myself. We are skulking birds, are we not?
Your bill is too black, my brother cautioned me. Try to tone it down.
Or other flycatchers will not play with you.
Was he insane?
How could I do this?
You need to lighten it, added my haughty, mean, nasty critical sister.
My happiness in youth was hiding away from them, as far down the coast
As I could get, imagining a different life for myself
Where people liked me,
Revered me,
Appreciated me for who I was.
I could not wait to get a mate
And raise my three flycatchers a different way
Entirely away from my family’s critical ilk.
I wanted to instill confidence and hope in them.
I found the right guy, and raised three flammulated flycatchers of my own
Without their interference, or so I thought….
All they wanted to do was fly back to grandma
And laugh at stories about how awkward I was.
Seriously?
A flycatcher sang his song today,
High atop a tall fig tree--
Out on the tipsiest branch
He swayed with rhythm
As he proudly sang--
Sang with joy, fluting so marvelously
I could scarce believe my ears--
Sang to his lover
Who answered in kind
From the nest they prepared;
Together they sang
For a young-one yet to be born;
But somehow knew
Near enough to hear their song
(Every season one would come along;
Needed to be fed,
Protected from the hawk--
Must be taught
To fly--
Sing the flycatcher song
By and by);
I listened to the two,
Suddenly feeling wings--
Found myself flying
Without any strings;
As one in a dream
Walking on air,
Gliding for rest,
Catching some lift
Out soaring the best.
I thanked the Flycatchers
For just being them,
My mind lighting on earth
once again-
Firm on the ground
Yet decisively changed--
A part of me
From here on out aloft….
Thunderheads in the western sky
Rumbling across the Llano Estacado
A band is playing outside
Mariachi and country songs
Striped lizard on a rock
Snake coiled ready to strike
Coyote on the prowl
It only threatens
And never rains here
In the spring and early fall
I can hear the flycatchers
Calling to the sun
Diving towards a butterfly
Why didn’t you ever call?
The toast on the counter
Jelly by the soap
Butter dish is empty
You think this is a joke?
Silver wings
Leave me lonely
Upon your cloak and coat
Catnip in the weed
I’ll take another toke
Dark and mysterious
Her eyes like coals
Dress the color of ash
A storm in her hair
Why does it seem
So lonely here
In her home town
Wind down the alley
Cat upon the curb
Life is never easy
Clueless and relentless
We hurl towards the truth
That mediocrity is a consequence
Of living within the dream
And thunder is in the living
Not the rain driven queen
Mother nature’s songs I cannot exceed
Of the Whippoorwill out in open field
They partake of mother’s bliss free of greed
Birds and their songs give of mother’s free will
Meadowlark songs of many are preferred
Though Scissortail flycatchers slice thin air
I favor Mocking bird of which I’ve heard
He sings all bird songs, I desire to sire
Mocking bird songs do surge with bird’s great urge
Whip-her-Will, he sings at night on the hill
Of Mocking bird songs , be of which I splurge
Awesome flight as dotted blades of windmill
Nature, birds and songs to springtime belongs
Nature’s spring refreshes men with bird songs
First Contest: Sonnet Me
In honor of: Sara Kendrick
#1) abab, cdcd, efef, gg
My friends come dine with me, while nature writes its poetry.
Corn, maize, sunflower seeds, bread, nuts and fruit for all
your needs. A bowl of water for you to wash, a gentle sip and
your thirst may quash. Through the pine the sun doth glow,
around the table the colours flow. Before my eyes this
coloured mist, the morning air and dewdrops kissed. Blue ****,
Great **** danced the floor, Blackbirds, Thrushes wanting more.
Spotted Flycatchers dart and dash, Chaffinch, Bullfinch preen
and splash. The Treecreeper stalks the maize, a Bee Eater green
on yellow floats the haze. Jays and Magpies for morsels fight,
Wagtails hop in black and white. The Robin stands and shows
his chest, the Siskin lands not far from nest. A Yellow Wagtail
carries the eye, all is song beneath the sky. A Crossbill comes
and steals the seeds, the Wren is perched and gently feeds. On
a branch high above sit a pair of Turtle Doves, as a Bunting
sings to the one he loves. Warblers, Goldcrests scrap for corn,
Sparrows skip and clean the lawn. This mornings table was
with colour blessed, all was warm in natures nest.
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