Patience is a virtue and doesn't belong to me.
I've played this game before and I bore too easily.
The waiting I refer to, it happens every year
Beginning rather slowly before sliding into gear.
It's just the same old story and one without much zing
But here I am again, anticipating spring!
(February 2021)
The town slept lost in their peaceful slumber
unaware of the revelry in motion outside.
The midnight sky host to the engorged moon
and the haloed stars and the dancing wind
cavorts over the rolling hills and the forest below.
Amused, the cypress, standing
sentrylike in the night sky, watches over all.
Tiny raindrops will sweeten the ground
As the arriving swallows swoop around.
And the frogs chorus sing so mellow
And buttercups fill the hills with yellow.
The red-winged blackbirds with a flash of fire
Fly to the cattails at the edge of the mire.
And none will know of this virus, not one
Will give thought at last when its done .
And would they care, either bird or tree
If people succumbed to it completely.
And mother nature, she doesn't care
If we are neither here or there.
April 2021
(Imitation Poetry Exercise
There Will Come Soft Rain by Sara Teasdale)
I feel you here
musing with the goddess of the hunt
by the sacred spring
at the sanctuary of Artemis.
You whisper softly my name
sending it swiftly on the breeze
to where I stand now
at the Temple of Apollo.
I catch a fleeting glimpse of you
among the ruins at Ramnous
cavorting with the oleander pink, in full bloom
nodding to the sea below.
Your jealous heart will not stop my wander
to every corner of this earth.
But your beauty and spirit
will always call me home.
(November 2019)
