Short Plantings Poems

lantanas a blast
like teeny fireworks ~
bucolic celebration
...

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Java helps keep me warm on those frigid days
Always a time to reflect back and try to start over
Now the days are starting to get longer!
Until it’s warmer, I will binge watch Netflix
A month to start planning spring plantings
Reading several novels, writing poems and staying warm
Yes, I dislike winter and can’t wait until Spring!

1/2/19...

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Strolling along looking out for new nature
Bluebirds nest along the way
Orange mushrooms have sprung to life
Smoke bomb mushrooms have shed their spores
Anticipation is the thrill and surprise
The marigolds have reseeded to new life
My late plantings of dill have sprouted
Now if the frost doesn't kill them too soon
Oh yes the post box, a new sample package
A Country magazine, and a bill yuck!
Tomorrow again anticipation...

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Listen to poem:

Tiny seed with embryo in toe
awaits the sower to decipher
all it's wants and needs,
to grow captive, in plots and pots.
Nature knows the needs of seeds off by heart.
Growers learn the code of what and when 
by rote declension recitals of scripts, 
and wasteful trial and error plantings.
Such failed trials and tribulations prove 
costly to seeds left to rot, freeze-dry and die
when sown in cold, parched and barren, 
foreign lands....

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I used to chase cattle
Which we called riding herd
It sometimes was a battle
Some of you may have heard

My dog herded cows
Better than Jim
Even I could run plows
Better than him

You see I like farming
I just let you know
My plantings not harming
And my seeds are to sow

It is the season to harvest and reap
The fruit and the veggies I’m going to keep
The winter is good with lots of food
I can just sit here in my hot-tub “nude”...

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The drifts move their white weight
as if the heaps themselves
were snowplows.

Again the sky dumps afterthoughts,
the packed mounds are remodeled
under new wind-plantings.

When the land is a white-out,
perception seeks color,
every dot of pigmentation
creates a brilliant question mark
on a blank field.

There are freely moving ghosts
in the swirling air.
I listen to the roof creaking,
as they land
looking for their sky-blue eye....

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There’s a difference
between the wild animals of the wilderness
and creatures
trapped between cities.
Even farms wedged between urban sprawl
eventually forget how to farm.
Trees planted in concrete avenues
know they will never die naturally.

Meanwhile, wild things adapt.
some creep and hide,
some linger to build dykes
for their eyes, so their minds don’t drown.
The trees grow as fast as they can,
but even the tall city plantings
know they have nowhere to go....

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