To The Garden

"If I had a single flower for every time I think of you,

I could walk forever in my garden."

~Claudia A. Grandi

Fancies

My Father reunited with his birth mother's family this weekend, and it has been a very pleasant experience for him for which I am beyond happy. He has never met any of them for almost 68 years, as he was given up for adoption at a year old. I have been thinking lately about my long lost Grandma, and the things that must have been going through her mind. The more I learn about her, the more I understand what a heartbreaking decision it must have been for my Grandmother. I can't help but believe that she has had a hand in this long overdue reunion. Now my Father has what he has always wanted for his kids and grandkids. An ancestry.

Fancies
Surely the flowers of a hundred springs
Are simply the souls of beautiful things!

The poppies aflame with gold and red
Were the kisses of lovers in days that are fled.

The purple pansies with dew-drops pearled
Were the rainbow dreams of a youngling world.

The lily, white as a star apart,
Was the first pure prayer of a virgin heart.

The daisies that dance and twinkle so
Were the laughter of children in long ago.

The sweetness of all true friendship yet
Lives in the breath of the mignonette.

To the white narcissus there must belong
The very delight of a maiden's song.

And the rose, all flowers of the earth above,
Was a perfect, rapturous thought of love.

Oh! surely the blossoms of all the springs
Must be the souls of beautiful things.

~Lucy Maud Montgomery

The Halloween Hare

The Halloween Hare

Gave the kiddies a scare

Late on a Hallow's Night.

Popping out of his hole

With a mask black as coal

Giving the Tricksters a fright.

Not a minute he wastes

Gobbling chocolates in haste

Left while taking their flight.

The Bore

the bore

the rambling talk of a fool
so loud and verbose
whose words prattle on
disregarded by most
impatience is what
you have incurred
mocking a mind
with your bloated words
disteem your badge
earned with distinct
given to a bore
who's never succinct

Ancestor Song

Listen for the Prairie Song,It'll call to you all night long.

Whistling over blades of grass,carried by wind, voices from the past.

Echoing over distance and space.

The Plains version of Amazing Grace.

Let it wash the bitterness from your lips,That rushed from you like a Judas kiss.

Honor the ones that brought you forth,Give your ears to their ancient chorus.

Find respect with each refrain,So their sacrafices were not made in vain.

Hypocrite

Hypocrite

Stamping down her feet, she balls her fists of fury.

Standing on her soapbox, becoming judge and jury.

Never letting go of any slights or injuries,

Holding tight to grudges, vengeance all she sees.

But her rants ring false, herself she's made a fool,

For she has forgotten the important Golden Rule.

Wrapped up in herself, her past her main concern.

Lessons that were taught, were never really learned.

How can you state the worst is yours alone to claim~

When those who care for you, receive nothing but the same?