Long White tailed deer Poems
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Succulent strawberries slide off the vine in front of appreciative robins
The smell of fresh cantaloupe wafts in the warm July Kansas air
White tailed deer have wandered up to eat my juicy yellow apples
Yard alive with fruity fragrances that have replaced May’s lilac aroma.
Tiny almost indiscernible moon is slipping away, sun glides gently into view.
Kind neighbor brought me fresh peaches last night, delicious on ice cream.
Gather thirty stalks of rhubarb, determinedly head toward my raspberry patch.
There will be fresh cobblers tonight with cinnamon and sugar on the top.
Crow gives me a severe scolding. I have not thrown anything his way yet.
About noon I will throw out a few split open strawberries for the butterflies
A monarch and a dragonfly flit past me. My garden is more alive than ever.
Is that watermelon ripe? Wow! I will collect it on my way back to the porch.
Striding into the snowy fortress my tepid heart at double time
paces
Entering a pine colonnade sprouting a wintry mane, saddled with
velvety laces
Cloaked with icy needles forming a brittle, hooded trellis
Golden beams seap through the shielded parapet gilding the frosty
mantle with an iridescence
The distant peaks shrouded with the glow of satin evanescence
Following an unmarked, winding trail spurred on by an eery
prescience
My unbridled senses discharged; my tempered spirit for the
mysterious journey braces
A haunting stillness shadows my movements; stealthily my
boundary encases
Shuttered from the outside world and its vapid spaces
Where time is muted and nature's discordant rhythm races
A pristine environment where tendrils caress, limbs bristle, the cold
wind chases
A cloudy fondue swirls overhead and each spiralling steeple
embraces
Squawking squirrels prance freely on the floor without leaving any
traces
Bald eagles glide above the crenelated spires crowning the summit
with their magestic graces
A maverick-cardinal's chirps funnel through the shrouded mist,
temporarily the dreary damper effaces
A Snowy owl crests over the hollowed thickets scanning the tight
nooks and crawl spaces
White-tailed deer cautiously trek through covered thickets, matted
fields which their camouflage erases
Filtering through the blustery labyrinth, an open field the rough
terrain displaces
The broad meadow teaming with yesterday's cares my
adventurous journey replaces
Looking longingly back on my charted path, my bridled heart the
solitary life praises
As I near the stratosphere, I let loose
an untamed, raw rainbow
I pull on the tattered, worn ropes
of my hand-sewn hot-air balloon across
the hidden boreal quarry hill in the north
they rose above the nose
of a furious focus bear
and whack the back legs
of a swift white-tailed deer
on the tips of their fingers
they follow the wave's crest
gliding across the shimmering bay
toward the murky, muddy waterfall
I reach out from the wicker basket
to feel the wings of the migrating seagulls that fly south
I imitate their husky honking
before fading like a dandelion
awe-inspiring Sitka Alaska Sunset
I secure my spaceship to a sturdy sprout
relax on the radiant crimson ratoon
I mumble to the gray owl
"Who huh huh?" said the deep dock
spinning, spinning, swirling
the wind whirled the canopy away
as the scarlet sunset slackens into the starry sky
I let go of my bulky loads and flew into the stratosphere
without regard for any impediments
any concerns are left behind
above the clouds, I set sail
Written: May 20, 2023
poetic trilling of joyful greedy song birds in summer
faded pink male cardinals swoop and flip
running red squirrel flashes tail
excited white-tailed deer knocks down bird feeder
mushy wet birdseed is now on the ground
bashed in red feeder lies limp and helpless
october transmogrifies rapidly into december
holiday activities are keeping farmers busy
wife is not filling feeders as diligently
snuggly nights get longer and darker
ice and snow brings in frost from the north
squirrels are in hiding now
feeder is emptying fast
hoggish crows, cardinals and wrens
blue jay watches and waits, uninvited
Come out and play, you creatures of the night.
Outside into the woods I want to go
and see a white tailed deer, a sheer delight
to catch sight of a doe in moon’s soft glow.
I want to glimpse a badger or raccoon.
Come out and play, you creatures of the night
while in the background, crickets chirp their tune,
and lightning bugs flash signals small and bright.
To spy a wolf, I’d feel a bit of fright,
especially if it were to start to howl!
Come out and play, you creatures of the night.
But not you wolves! I’d rather spot an owl!
Oh, yes, an owl would please me to no end -
one wide awake like me and snowy white!
Perhaps I’d make of him my new best friend.
Come out and play, you creatures of the night.
Written May 22, 2016 for C T's The sun is out Poetry Contest
Sun slowly dipping in a springtime sky;
the wind's blowing and the pine boughs tossing.
From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy,
walk down to the river; and the crossing.
To the fields above, and forage a meal;
prance in the meadows; eyes and ears moving
Hear Blue Jay's calling to alarm with zeal.
Just twilight now, the waters glistening.
Squirrels and chipmunks have gone to their beds.
Barn Owls gliding upon whispering wings.
Night animals stir, sleepiness now shed.
Stand at the water, hear the crickets sing.
Return from the fields to sleep for the day
Just at dawn, they cross in the misty haze.
3/2/2021
Breath of Spring Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
The skeleton man is doing chin ups on our fence!
This is said in anger by my cousin, Little Spence.
It doesn’t bother me, I tell him. What is the harm?
He is never polite, he’s rude, and he lacks lots of charm.
The skeleton man gives me a nod and a wink.
He and I are old acquaintances from a town name of Brink.
He’s not so bad I tell Little Spence. He could be your friend.
Unfortunately, he is not the one to be cordial or to bend.
So, the skeleton man continues chinning and I keep my voice off.
In the distance I hear a white-tailed deer give a nervous cough.
November is hunting season, and it comes so very soon.
But right now, I am being quiet, watching Spence, who can be quite a goon.
The dew on the grass, reflecting the early morning sun as it stretches its rays, trying to wake up after a long dark cool night..
The birds, turkeys, peacocks, are still nestled in the parks wild flowers, as their blanket, it’s too early to rise..
Even the white tailed deer are curled up in their pen, with their nose tucked in.. what a gift to see them up close.
I grab a seat on the bench, warm coffee in hand, wrap my soft sweater around my neck, take in GODS creation, time has no place here in thus blissful moment..
A bridge that has stood its time, gives campers a way to cross from the camping side a way to cross over to view Sunnybrook animals, perhaps a retired couple, enjoying an early morning walk.
Suddenly I’m overcome with sadness, because I know no one seems to need me in the city anymore like they did once before, oh how I’d love to make this our home, it’s become my second home, the place where my love of my life grew up, Sunnybrook park has always held a special place in my heart..
Oh how I wish I had grew up here, for I would have been gifted with a FAMILY I never had, SUNNYBROOK PARK, GOD must have spent alot of time creating HOLY GROUND such as YOU.