Why Can’t People
Why can’t people just be people,
And leave each other alone?
Then every child would have a home
In the sunshine.
Why can’t all my brothers and sisters
Reach out a helping hand?
Why can’t they try to understand
‘Cause we’re running out of time.
(People, we are running out of time.)
Why can’t people just be good neighbors,
Learn how to get along?
We gotta teach a newborn bird to fly.
All by itself, we gotta teach it how to fly.
If we could only realize
We’re all just God’s children anyway,
Maybe he won’t seem so far away.
Rest in peace, Charles Edward Daniels, 1936-2020
He leaves wife Hazel, and son Charlie Daniels, Jr.
Heaven’s chorus now enjoys another voice.
“‘Cause we are running out of time.”
Wild Tiger Lilies
It seems as though we’ve just watched
The last of the snow fade.
Now we cut the growing grass
Blade by blade.
We keep watch for hummingbirds
And the peony’s blooms.
We can open our windows (at least in the day),
In our sunny summer rooms.
Summer Solstice brings promise,
Today the day is long.
We turn to see the rose’s bloom…
And June is gone.
Doone The Cat
Just keep feeding the cat.
Sometimes our lives feel like whirlwinds.
Sometimes we question our very existence.
It can be mind-boggling.
Meanwhile, we must keep feeding the cat.
It is a Known Good.
Duty and regimen.
All things must pass.
Some days it’s all we have.
Until things settle.
Until we sort things out.
Until things become clearer.
In the meantime, keep feeding the cat.
A Known Good for the cat, too.
Fate has woven within it
an intrinsic twist.
Mortals may never know
what lies around the curve.
Joy In Motion
continue to echo,
to circle back,
time and again.
multiplexing on a vector
with the present season.
Like practicing a song
you know by rote,
until you know it
Noni among the flowers
Such newfound joy I behold each year
When April’s song bends my ear.
The robins’ whistle by the fence,
The gobble of the turkey thence.
The warblers chatter, the swallows dart
In living, breathing, springing art.
From Earth rises all manner of things,
As if for the deaf April also sings.
First crocuses, Colt’s Foot and shad will bloom,
Then tulips and daffodils vie for room.
Trees, still leafless, seem eager and greener,
As if taking cues from the grass’s demeanor.
The sky looks bluer, the clouds fly higher,
The sun warms our face like the past winter’s fire.
The wind brings with it no freezing strife,
But the essence of growth, the breath of life.
As each day grows longer ‘tween end and start,
So, too, warms and grows hope in the heart.
19 is a big number this year.
19 is on our lips.
The likes of which unseen for the last century.
Yes, the Equinox on the 19th of March.
The earliest in 123 years.
Spring rolls in. Robins and grackles and the tops of tulips.
Nature doesn’t give a fig about the number 19.
Whatever it represents.
Barn at sunrise
I beg your pardon, and I mean just that.
I’m sorry we won’t have time to chat.
I haven’t a moment to spare, you see,
Just now Mother is calling me.
It’s not entirely my fault,
This unavoidable delay.
But you know the world is bigger than me
And overwhelms my day.
It’s not only me, it’s also the birds
‘Cause they’re Tweeting me with their tweeting bird words.
And the trees are waving to catch my eye,
Passing clouds call out “Hello and goodbye.”
Am I to blame for marveling
At this air that smells of snow?
It surrounds me and embraces me,
And follows everywhere I go.
You wouldn’t hold it against a guy
Whose eyes automatically rise to the sky,
For breathing deep and lingering long,
To sing along with Nature’s song.
So hasten, must I,
To truncate this rhyme.
You and I can visit
Some other time.