Poetry
©Jeanne E. Webster
~
Enjoying a swing on the patio
Sitting in our little "Rose Garden"
Looking at that pale blue sky
Rain’s gone now, I’ll pardon
~
Blurred with white chalky scrapes
Overhead is a see-through image
Last night’s leftover half-moon
Must 'a lost the rest in scrimmage
~
Hummingbirds all a' squeak
A winged rush hour traffic jam
Zooming like mad robotic bees
Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb
~
Gum trees shake off their sleep
Casting shade all over the hills
Cicada males not yet awake
Dreaming of their mating shrills
~
Melodious call of an oriole male
Not yet sipping of my nectar
Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia
Rose petals, the sun rays detector
~
A blue jay is squaring off afar
Probably out protecting his mate
Neighborhood roosters a' crowing
Pleased that the showers did vacate
~
A dull thumping of railroad cars
Mulishly moving down the tracks
Loaded with sooty coal, I guess
Heading up north, a' clickity-clack
~
A hummer just flew past my nose
Stopped on a dime then returned
Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon
Inching closer, drooled and yearned
~
Ready to propel even closer now
Till I uttered, "I don’t think so!"
Off it flew with a squeak and snip,
In a blaze of its slinky chapeau
~
Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels
Got my front end as wet as they
But I can’t run around the yard
And shake off and loudly bray
~
Certainly I knew I had better not
What would the neighbors think?
An old lady romping with dogs
Surely needs to visit a shrink
~
But when those baths are done
Oh, to become a little girl again
I’d chase my tail and play dog
Bark and run after the mailmen
~
I’d dance the day away... maybe
But I’m afraid this tired ole body
Would give out fast and furious
Put me to bed with a hot toddy
~
My knees would grate and grit
My hips would start to grumble
The hard ground would beckon
And I'd surely take a tumble
~
But jes' for the tiniest moment
I would be all tickled and pink
For I'd soon be soaring home
In just about forty odd winks!
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I saw and felt the imagery of life! Thank you Jeanne.
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