The Promise
Mists
of water, wooing tiny flying rainbows
As
they hover nearby
Waiting
for their chance for coolness
Spinning
wings holding aloft
Ounces
of hues, blues and greens
Quenching
thirst, or freshening shower,
Either
way, I anticipate their arrival
Relaying
to me His incredible creation,
These
miniature messengers.
Nests
nearby or far away?
Only
they know, as they visit
From
their hiding place to nurture
Their
hungers, or tiny beak cries,
Yearning
for nectars, from flowers
Yearning
for love, from hearts,
Finding
solace in the quick-beating bosom
Of
a parent, stilled by concern for the chick,
Gently
shares the golden liquid, drawn from buds,
Carried
from wild and cultivated blooms,
Brought
finally home, to comfort the future,
These
miniature messengers.
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
Damn Weeds
Wish
just a simple hex would rid my garden
Of
unwanted greenery, but I’ve forgotten
Even
they think they have a right to live
But
not among my beautiful flowers,
That
I’ll never forgive!
Pull
and dig those nasty roots
They’ll
never come back, I’ll turn them to soot
A
shot of spray, a helping hand
The
soil’s clean, the best kind of land!
I
deserve a rest, but they don’t, those pests,
Trying
to make their homes in my yard.
Harumph,
I say, never again
Will
weeds harass my lovely garden.
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
Switching
Roles
I
sure
am
glad
you
like
to
cook,
So
I can water
(or
read my book)
I’ll
eat
The
food
But
let me scrub
It
will clean my hands
From
dirt and grub
If
you
Weren’t
here
I’d
open the freezer
Defrost
a meal
And
watch televeeser
“Home
and Garden”
(Nothing
else, beg pardon)
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
Vacation Directions
Water
too much
The
plant will turn yellow
Don’t
water enough
They’ll
wilt in the meadow
But
under the shade
They’ve
found a respite
Despite
the day’s heat
Protected
from sun
Dehead
if you can
Pinch
the bud with your hand
But
don’t pull too hard
If
so, no Christmas card!
Here
a little, there a lot
Check
the moisture in each pot
Use
your judgment, if you are able,
Point
that hose and spray, baby, spray.
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
Dirt Spangled Garden*
Oh,
say can you see, my patio in early dawn
My
round flowers in pots aren’t they
pretty, not brown?
Who-ose
buds are all there, despite the bugs in the air
And
the weeds they are bad – when they’re gone I’ll be glad.
See
the one over there? I pulled it last night, I swear
Get
my spade and my gloves, we’ll throw that rascal away
Oh,
say, don’t get plastic or silk for inside the house
I
like them live, you see, they look better on the table.
Oh,
say, does that plant need more water or manure?
I’ll
check my garden books then get right back to you.
Flowers,
herbs in containers of all shapes and kinds
They’ve
gone through heat, insects, and sharp squirrel teeth
To
provide me with an eye pleasing scene,
It’s
all worth the sweat, stiff back and, oh, my legs
Oh,
say, let’s go shopping and buy some more plants
Cause
I have some extra cash, and I know what I want.
*Sung to the tune of The Star Spangled Banner
(with apologies to Mr. Key)
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
Off With Their Heads!
Here
she comes to pinch off my head
She
says it’s not pretty because it looks dead
I
cannot argue, she’s bigger than me
So
perhaps I can ask a bug...no a bee!
She
says I’ll grow better
But I’ll write her a letter
To
explain my point of view
But
I can’t hold a pen? Too true, too true.
Maybe
That Man who lives with the lady
Could
plead my case, but he looks pretty shady
I
think he’d do the same, if he had a chance
So
maybe I’ll just have to do my Dead Dance.
When
she comes to pinch off my head
My
screams and hollers will make her dread
The
day she decided that having so few
Of
the buds on my bush would look better to you.
You
think so? Say more so I understand
Why
my olds buds have to go in the can
More
water for fewer, making them pretty?
I
didn’t know. Well then, I’ll let her dehead me.
J.Stewart, in honor of Moreen’s Birthday
Saturday, October 6, 2001
No comments:
Post a Comment