Insects whisper secrets from the trees: Pst, pst, pst—listen to me. Cicadas call with deafening song: Mi, mi, mi, mi all night long. Frog choruses bellow haunting calls That pierce like paper windows and walls, Some are hollow: tock, tock, tock, Like a rod hitting a wooden block;Others ordinary ribbits you’d Expect—whether a duet or …
Diamond prism in the sky, I cannot fly you though I try, But when I start to wind you in, Then you begin to dance again, And yet once more, I can’t resist, But let you spin from my grip, twist—Dragging the ground, I bring you in;Then you begin to flit again, And pair of …
In a youth choir years ago, I learned a round that is the epitome of a sticky song. Even last week, I found myself singing the song while working because the trigger words that mark the opening lines and the title ran through my mind: “come, follow me.” While they have nothing to do with …
Through eighty-eight years of rain and snow, Of days and nights, one soldierMarches by a single tomb: Twenty-one step salute, repeat. He does not know whose grave he guards, And yet his wakeful watch he keeps To honor the soldiers we lost: Twenty-one step salute, repeat. This guard recalls to us war's cost—His steps carving …
The lines of time turn twisted When the clock of midnight tips From today into tomorrow. Now what is yesterday, and is Right now tonight, or is it This morning—can it be both? Midnight’s no time for these enigmas; Leave the dilemmas for the day. But when I wake, I then discover They don’t matter …
Reason not with the wren: Where it builds its nest or Why it sings, why the constant Happy hopping once the season Warms to spring, why it roosts In wreaths on front doors Or high corners of the porch, Why it’s always on a mission, Leaf in beak like a relay torch, Why the indomitable …
Nose quivering, tail rippling, Paws creeping, eyes inquiring. Close your eyes to bless the food, And then the squirrel is there in front of you, Waiting expectantly for a scrap.And when you toss a stick to make it scram, It runs to examine it, hoping for a snack. And when you turn around, suddenly it's …
Gray waiting winter hovers low, tucking the cold earth tight beneath cloud covers till spring flings them back, leaping from its rest, and shaking winter’s hold.
Grandma’s tree was different. Unlike almost everyone else, She didn’t care if an ornament was ugly, Made of bits and bobs, or falling apart. The only merit that mattered to her Was the giver or crafter who made it, The amount of personal touch or heart They had poured into it—that’s what made it, To …
Key of promise, come, O Messiah, Promised one: To open every eye sin blinds, To loose the prisoner from his binds, To open each lock of despair, To free us from each heavy care, And then be found at last, Inside our heart's lock clasped, As we in yours are ever treasured With greatest love …
