In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?

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Beauty abounds
And in the ever ripened field
Furrows shift and leaves blow
The sun at last resets its shield
Allowing cold to flow

As frost returns
The higher places hold their warmth
And let the hollows chill
‘Til even the highest ground at length
Can’t stay the winter’s will

True cold
We remember what cold is now
And lay the log to burn
While snow like frosting coats the bough
And ice makes slick the turn

A change
At long last we see the mud
The snow has turned to rain
First flowers and the leaf’s small bud
A frost free grassy plain

Now heat
And sweat comes with today
Of planting veggies good
And over summer fruits we pray
As in the sun we stood

Once more
And as we lay aside our hoe
We choose a scythe again
For now it’s time for the corn to go
For Autumn to begin



~myself 2008~

1 comment:

Deanna Rabe - Creekside Cottage Blog said...

You have a beautiful way with words, Olivia. What a lovely gift...