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Bridget Aubrey Poem
My Kentucky in Fall
Peaceful country roads winding through meadows and hills,
and golden rays kiss purple asters, tall ironweed and abundant goldenrod.
Gorgeous colors are greeting me despite the warning that drought
would hold them back this year.
Glowing yellows, warm reds and burning orange leaves are clinging
to the heavy branches, limbs swaying in the autumn breeze.
Fallen leaves dance to the music of the currents,
poison ivy vines wrap the stately maple in crimson.
Damp snapping turtles sun themselves on a rock in the creek,
while further up a blue heron is standing silently, watching the
slow flowing water, until he is ready to strike.
Our majestic Ohio river reflects the cloudless, azure sky
while bordered by densely covered cliffs that are
decked in their autumn finest.
Profusely blooming red cardinal vines cling to the rocky ledges
are kissed by happily buzzing bees and bouncing butterflies.
Pumpkins, ghosts and witches decorate porches and front doors,
gray barns are brimming with hay, tobacco and corn,
contently harboring their bounty.
Acorns, black walnuts and hickory nuts are plentiful, yet squirrels
do not seem in a hurry to bring in their winter supply.
Smiling, waving hikers are climbing the autumn scented hills
to Tioga Falls, and Virginia Creeper vines show pleasing colors
along the old Rail Road Bridge.
On the side of the road the lush cedars have developed
their silver-blue berries,
and wild rose bushes are displaying their red rose hips.
Autumn has come to my Kentucky.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2010
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
My hands look worn, marked by the passing of time,
Of sunlight, cold, heat and work.
They have baked, cooked, gardened and harvested,
They have held the hands of devastated people sitting in front of a casket,’
They have soothed fevered brows, wrapped gifts with a smile on my face.
They have held many pudgy little hands of toddlers learning to walk,
And now hold the hand of my older, stumbling friend.
They are covered with sunspots, but they are happy spots.
A legacy of many bright hours spend in my flourishing garden,
Of romantic walks, of picnics with friends, of games played with children,
And of time spend alone, out in nature, replenishing myself.
My hands, adorned with rings, showing my commitment to my Love,
Carrying my birthstone ring, a present of my Sweetheart,
And in rememberence of my Mom, her favorite ring.
My hands are a mirror of my life.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2009
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
Have you ever taken the time to watch rain fall in winter?
See the beautiful symmetry of it; listen to the gentle splash?
Watch the lacy curtain of moisture against the background of winter
darkened trees.
Drops, like shiny gems, are clinging to graceful branches.
Others, growing in size until they are too heavy to hold on any longer, run down my
windshield; their path erratic and wiggly.
There is so much beauty in Nature, even on the grayest day.
It is in the peaceful pitter-patter of the descending rain.
In the gentle ripple that appears as it enters a puddle.
And in the heavy, leaden and mighty clouds that travel our wonderful world.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2009
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
They are along the edge of the woods,
in the meadow along the mighty river,
in a little crack in the drive way,
in orderly spaces in well groomed gardens.
They are in old, forgotten cemetaries,
in hedgerows along schools and shopping centers,
in ballfields, along ponds and ditches,
they popp up on cliffs, on top of windy hills,
in an old and abandoned flowerbox,
or almost empty clay pots.
They grace parking lots, the side of the highway,
they wind up mighty trees, fences and gates,
they thrive between the corn, wheat and barley,
they climb old barns, forgotten homesteads,
they spread out when left unattended,
to mark the spot a family once,
so many years ago, took pride in owning.
They are a prophet of seasons to come,
they are a splash of cheer and color,
they are visited by bees, bugs and butterflies,
they soothe us with their eternal scents,
and they always bring a smile to my face.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2009
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
In my home, waiting arms hold me,
Sweet smiles make me welcome,
Tails wag no matter what the time,
Eyes light up at the sight of me.
In my yard, trees shade me from heat
And protect me from rain,
Flowers pop up and flourish,
Giving me fragrance and beauty.
In my garden, life unfolds in many ways.
I have the privilege to watch baby
Plants being born. I help nourish them,
They trust me.
My garden snake watches me,
“Lucy” the yellow and black spider
Helps me catch bugs,
And Cardinals humor my attempt to converse.
Purple Martins show their trust
By coming back to nest,
Giving the pleasure of watching
Those babies grow and take flight.
At night, everlasting Diamonds
Sparkle over my house,
And that big, shining globe spreads
Silver beams on my walks.
My sky is endless,
My oceans ever mysterious,
My mountains are ageless,
And my roads lead into eternity.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2006
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
Mornings are magic in the garden.
Awakening plants open up slowly to the new day. As sunlight comes creeping over the horizon, touching sleeping leaves with gold, dewdrops are drenching the new spring growth. The light shows every spiderweb’s gossamer woven structure, with glittering diamonds hanging on evey strand.
There are many of them located here—in the grass, between the vegetables and between the beanpoles are good places to make a home.
I think that this garden belongs to a short, round human that is called Bridget. At least I have seen her respond tothat name when it was called out while she was working here.
My family has been living here for many years. I am a garden spider, and I am a very pretty one. My colors are yellow and black.
Bridget comes out to the garden and stands there for a while, just looking around and smiling. I can understand it, there are many wonderful places to make a web here, it makes you smile! But it seems to me that she is smiling at many other things, too, like the flowers and all the green plants growing.
When she spots me, she says:” Hello Lucy,” so I think that is my name. “How are you this morning?” I answer her:” Well I am hungry and I am waiting to catch something soon.” However, I am not sure she even speaks spider, because she just goes on.
My grandmother told us last year, when it was fall and the tomatoes ripened and the okra was tall as well as the beanpoles were loaded with beans all over, she had a web between some fat red tomatoes. It was a good place, shady and cool from the hot summer sun.
Bridget came out and started gathering okra, then spotted the red round tomatoes and reached over to them. She parted the leaves and came very close to touching grandma with her nose! She then let out a scream that made the hair rise on grandma’s back. Poor grandma scrambled as fast as she could under a big leaf.
So, even when she stands there, smiling, I am going to be careful when she is around!
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2019
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
In my summer meadow
Lavender colored milkweeds, growing between dark purple butterfly peas, are
perfuming the warm air.
The color combination is especially pleasing to me; I love purple.
Perfectly round globes of milkweed are a magnet for bees, butterflies and a variety
of other insects. I see lightening bugs among them.
The buzzing of bumblebees, wasps and honeybees is accompanied by the chirping
of crickets and the happy twittering of the meadow birds.
Yellow Sweet Clover lends it's perfume to the summer symphony of soothing scents.
Tall spikes of blooming Johnson grass sways dreamily in the bright sunlight.
Right in the middle of a soft pink wild rose bush, a bright red butterfly weed is the
center of activity for many species of colorful butterflies. A brilliant blue"Two-barred
Flasher” flaps it's wings as fast as a hummingbird, while the orange-brown Buckeye
rests peacefully.
Next to the roses, a blackberry bush is promising juicy, dark berries soon, while the
Mulberry trees are already providing a welcome sweet snack for birds, deer and
bunnies.
A patch of wide- open orange daylillies is a cheerful spot over at the edge of the
trees and an emerald- green hummingbird enjoys their offerings.
There is so much life and beauty in a small patch of meadow!
I love it!
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2011
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
Trust Life
Don't let life pass you by,
Waiting for a better day, a better chance.
Live now!
Believe in the Good in people,
Trust Life.
Never walk in anyone's shadow,
Let the light guide you,
Feel the spirit of the universe
In the golden power of the sunlight,
As it gently caresses you face.
Open your eyes to the beauty around you,
Take your strengh from nature,
It is there for the taking.
It will fill you with power
To share with the ones that need it.
Look for the beauty you posess inside,
This is the Life you waited for.
Trust Life- and you could not wish
for more!
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2006
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
Living with an addict is a special kind of hell
You watch your child struggle and suffer,
Each day brings new challenges
They will tell you: “I am not dependent on that stuff!”
“ You are not?” NO! I don’t use it every day!”
Not knowing much about drugs, you ask stupid questions.
“Who would use every day! I should hope not.”
But money disappears, jewelry and tools walk away…
Many strange things happen.
Many homeless friends of your child hang around,
And you feel sorry for them.
You let them sleep in the garage and cannot believe their family would cast them out,
Not having reached that point of desperation with your child yet.
You don’t mind that they eat here but some are saying you are enabling them.
But you would rather that a stranger would feed your child if he was in that position.
Better than stealing, right? No one has the perfect answer.
You watch your child turn pale and listless.
What happened to the one that loved going camping, fishing and had many interests?
You try and make suggestions but they seem to fall on deaf ears.
You are afraid…where is my child?
This thing has power over everything! You look for answers and ask many questions.
No one knows the answer, no one wants to be involved.
“They have to do that on their own!”
You know that is not right! They are not in their right mind.
How can they be expected to make good decisions!
All they think of is how to get that next fix!
You know that your child is still in there, somewhere!
The child that has so much compassion, many dreams and wishes.
You remember the little arms around your neck.
“Mom, I love you!”
The hand full of dandelion heads he gave you with shining eyes.
“ I picked them for you.”
Many still have the belief that addiction is just willfull action.
“They can stop any time they want”
NOT so! It is an illness! Yes, you have to experiment with drugs to get it,
But they don’t choose to be addicted.
The DRUG is stealing their life, is taking your child!
All you can do is pray and wish and suffer…God help us!
Bridget Aubrey
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2015
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Bridget Aubrey Poem
My happy butterflies
Bright yellow wings, scalloped in velvety back, are fluttering
In the mellow morning air,
Dancing in happy search of nectar on a purple,
sweet scented clover bud.
Joined by his mate, equally wondersome decorated.
They greet each other in a joyful dance.
“Follow me, I know of a fragrant, red butterfly weed blossom
over here-- come on!”
“Oh yes, I like this! Now come and taste this gorgeous orange-
painted Zinnia.”
“Why, thank you, it’s quite good, I like it too!”
A goldfinch is clinging to a swaying milkweed,
but it does not bother the frolicking couple,
It takes to the air, swooping further down the colorful meadow,
While my happy Swallowtails found a rain puddle.
“Ah, this is just what we need , a cool drink,”
they smile.
Copyright © Bridget Aubrey | Year Posted 2007
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