Scurrying Poems

Action under a fall sky

chipmunks scurrying across the park
dog wants to let loose and play
~ not happening on my watch


Wordku: 5-7-5 words

LISTEN to the Wind

"In fall, nature must rest for when they return in spring, to be at their best. " -quote by poet

The trees hear whispers in the wind begin
 It's now time to surrender and let fall win
Slumber is upon them as they start to let go
  To be strong and barren for blankets of snow
 Branches relax as their leaves start to turn
Letting them fall knowing in spring they’ll return

  Hummingbirds hover as they frantically feed
 Fresh nectar for their migration trips a need
The wind whispers warnings as the days get shorter
  When ready, he'll find his mate and will escort her
    Goldfinches appear in their olive drab feathers
Working to secure their nests with twig tethers

 Squirrels and chipmunks are scurrying about
   Busy finding acorns as they sputter and spout
  They listen to the wind as it whistles and whirls
 And lifts fallen ground leaves in colorful swirls
   Flowers hold on to their last blooming breaths
Before they all succumb to their fall deaths
   Nature always listens to the wind's fall requests

Mickey and Minnie : clerihew

 
Carton Character Clerihew 
12.8.25


Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse

wanted to buy a fancy estate house

went scurrying to a corporation bank

found it full of greedy glitzy  hanks !

Something

Is there fresh roasted coffee?
Is there warm cake for breakfast?
Yes, there is dark coffee, yes there is cake.
Did the small blue plate wash its face?
Does the buttery table
spread under the sun like a meadow?
Yes, the twinkling plate and the salty table
are laid sunny side up.
Are there rats in the walls?
Are there scurrying roaches?
One can ever be sure about such things.
Will there be work? Will there be words?
Will words hang in the air like china dolls?
Will their eyes be open?
Yes, there will be the happy and the sad,
and those that hang eyeless in-between.
Will there be something?
Yes, you may sleep or awaken,
while your body remembers what to do.
Yes, there will be something.

In my green field

Laying in the summer sun in a field of green grass 

In the distance a lake shimmering like a pain of clear glass 

Birds are singing their sweet songs in the bushes and trees 

And the soothing humming sound of the honey bees

The smell the wild flowers so pungent and delicious 

The scurrying of a field mouse carefree but still suspicious
 
Laying in a field of green grass the warm sunshine on my face 

Alone with my daydreaming away from the human race.

Summertime

The smell of Smokey BBQ, sticky sunscreen and freshly mowed cut grass. 

Ice-lollies, red freckles faces and long walks around the park.

The sky stays light till late, with a warmer forecast, even when it's dark

children scurrying with laughter, with their parent calling past 

Trips to the beach, paddling pools, and music on full blast 

taking the longest to arrive, yet passes by so fast

BUT

making memories, and those special moments to remember , are what's guaranteed to last

Summertime

Soul-Searching

Sitting attentively on a rickety park bench
My thoughts as deep as an ocean trench
People scurrying aimlessly with their daily lives
In time they’ll fade too, into the archives

I notice a young family, a dog and a cat
After they draw a last breath, what awaits after that?
Billions departed throughout the lineage of man
Bygone times, forgotten lives; been quite the span.

What is the meaning of life in this place?
Why have some never shared a loving embrace?
How many souls have meandered here?
Each with their own struggles to persevere

Who makes it to heaven and who does not?
Will some scorch in hellfire in flames molten hot?
Are we amid a spiritual war for our soul?
The weight of such questions takes its toll

I hope that together, we make it in the end
To a realm without fear, where we joyfully ascend
The righteous, the tainted, and all in between
In a land of eternal peace, pure and serene

Homeless

   Missed the ones
   Not seen
   Sleeping in the culvert
   By the stream

   Sounds carrying
   Rodents scurrying
   The ones not seen
   Furry

   Measuring each tiny step
   Silence thundering on
   Quietly rising
   Carrying on

   Doing what must
   To fit in
   Belong
   Surviving

   The multitude reaching out
   Missing the ones
   Not seen
   Unheard in a silent scream

I’ll be gone this summer

I’ll be gone this summer.
It’s just a fact of life.
One day when the moon settles into the heavens
and the hazy heat loses its grip on the day,
I’ll walk to the woods
and never emerge.
I’ll become one with the earth,
take my last breaths to the sounds of crickets and 
squirrels scurrying to their treetop homes.
It’s not particularly something I want to do;
some days, I even find myself scoffing at this possibility.
But deep down, I know it must be done.
My existence is a wrong that must be righted
by my own hand, if by nothing quicker.
I’m better off dead.
No doubt about it.
I’ll lift the weight off my loved ones soon.
I just hope they know the last words on my lips will be a whispered
I love you. 

   I love you. 




                 I love you.

An Oasis

From a distance
It is the most beautiful thing
An oasis created by God
Out in the middle of an empty sea of grass
A symbol of life abounding
With the chattering of birds
And the scurrying of the animal
It is a place to be left alone
Admired from a distance
But it should never be destroyed
Nor should it be bothered in any way
It is there for a reason
A reason neither you nor I can ever understand

© Poem – VII/II/MMXXV
LRET

Looking for Keys At Gotta-Go Time

gosh, look at the time!

he's gotta go
immediately!
wherever he's headed 
punctuality is a must,
he can't just go yet...
his mind 
in utter disarray,
repeatedly screaming...

"where's my damn keys?!"

as he goes on a tear 
for his misplaced keys,
he implores time to slow 
to a c r a w l
but she gives him the kiss off.
she's laced up her running shoes 
as he searches 
frantically;
his inner voice...
wailing like a banshee,
ocean of tumult violently churns 
in the pit of his gut.
a mouse scurrying 
room to room
wreaking royal havoc;
clothes flying here and there,
the couch flipped upside down.
his impatience 
giving way to panic.
meanwhile,
time's already on the run...
daring him...

" catch me, if you can!"

yet the borrowing gopher 
paces around the house,
driving himself crazy, then...
he swings his front door open;
sad eureka!
there it is...
on the other side of the door 
his keys dangle
in the keyhole.
time now mocking him...
he's late as can be.

The Afterlife of Leaves

The parade of endless colors is over, 
all the leaves are dead or dying
scurrying about like frantic crabs
back and forth across an icy-icy land
clinging along the fence line of time
swirling around cul-de-sac and doorways
like gothic teens with little reason to shine
...but unchained from their master's paradise
unchained from the dance of emerald lies.
Soon these bronzed -arthritic children
will wrinkle into oblivion.

The Marketplace

“The Marketplace”

Today the marketplace is open.
Ready with crisp linens for handfuls of gold.
Hordes of buyers stomp the asphalt
scurrying by and through to the next.
I have worn my smile.

My hair is wind-born.
smelling of burnt amber and roses.
My dress, summer silk, covers my flesh - 
Tones like island-bronze.
And I have worn my smile.

I banter over prices, politely.
Others haggle, fussing, who is next.
I, alone in my company, solo with passing
memories of your hands on my face.
I show everyone my smile.

Evening approaches, hushing the buzz of the crowd.
Memories of you sink into the dark...
falling with my head upon my pillow.
I remember walking the marketplace with you
and how you made me smile.

Thankful

I’m thankful for the whispering winds and the gentle rain
And the absent sun on dark days, knowing it will be out again
The moonlit skies at night with twinkling stars shining bright
The change of the seasons and all its festive and seasonal sights
 
The birds who visit and sing their sweet morning melodies
Goldfinches, blue-jays, cardinals and feisty chickadees
Their daily return to feed and build nests nearby in the trees
And watching their entertaining antics as they frolic and tease

Spring blooms that I anticipate and wait for to reappear
In bright colors and scents that bring delight and cheer
The chipmunks and squirrels in my yard scurrying about
with their sputtering, chirping, and barking spouts

The fresh winter snow that cleanses and brightens the ground
and the magical moments of watching the snowflakes come down
When the air warms and crocuses and daffodils emerge through the snow
And the return of Spring when nature rejoices and puts on a beautiful show

on a back road

a startled kitten 
and raccoon scurrying 
across the road

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