A warm afternoon at the end of March passes both languidly and much too quickly. The sky is blue, with no clouds blowing in the slight breeze. A monarch butterfly, black-and-orange wings majestic and beautiful flies — almost floats — nearly close enough to kiss the nose of an observer. The bird-feeders, filled for the first time in a long while, attract many other winged creatures, feathered things opening their hungry beaks.
And it is around now, when the cherry blossoms bloom at their peak.
Nature takes her time —
From the outside see Earth spin
Making us dizzy
This week’s paint-chip poetry prompt is a free-write, with only three paint chips: heirloom tomato, stepping stone, and grandma’s hydrangeas. I wrote this poem as a response and also inspired by this prompt about weather.
Rosemary is hosting this Sunday’s Writers’ Pantry.
It’s an unprompted link-up, but she did talk about Shel Silverstein and shared one of his poems. That inspired this cherita, since I was a fan of his children’s poetry when I was in elementary school. I had forgotten about that until Rosemary helped me remember. 🙂
As a child in the library, I read his books of poetry:
Those whimsical, silly rhymes planted poet-seeds,
Also containing lessons waiting to germinate.
Today, encountering these words, they speak to me
Of truths I have only just begun learning,
Of letting the words start blooming.
For DVerse Poetics today, we are to write inspired by wheat. At first, I was completely at a loss for any inspiration, but tonight I wrote this Chaucerian stanza.
Unless a grain of wheat shall fall upon
The fertile ground and die, a sacrifice,
It remains a single grain; but once gone
It returns, and is now worth well past twice:
Potential on which you can’t put a price.
Does wheat feel trepidation ere the fall?
Is falling in the field falling at all?
This is a day late for FDDA #24 but also fits today’s FOWC: Somewhere. A sevenling seemed appropriate for this topic. I appreciate the “fun fact” prompt because I call any random fact, especially if it’s not fun, a “fun fact.”
I am a twin, younger by
17 minutes: My brother loves
Gardening, but I have none of that talent.
I love music, such as piano
And singing: Also always loved
Dancing, although I’m bad at it.
This is for paint-chip poetry #33, and it was partially inspired by FDDA #20, since the temperament described in the poem is maybe an exaggeration of mine but closer to mine than I would like to admit.
Her emotions can go from happy to envious
More quickly than a wind gust.
She’s glad when someone else is accomplished,
Yet also wants the better end of
The wishbone, and of her many wishes.
If she begins to go off the deep end don’t forget
To breathe, get oxygen, take time for a lap swim.
Remember, in the garden, is basil green with envy
No; it helps the heirloom tomatoes to grow.
Now that I think about it, this poem also, in a way, reminds me of yesterday’s Gospel reading (Matthew 20:1-16), which ends with, “Or are you envious because I am generous?”