Toad’s day…

Puttering and pattering

Looked down and found

A wonderful hop toad

Laying low

in his humble abode

He eyed me

And spied me

As I did him

With a wink and a whim

The tiniest pot he chose

From all the others

Of those

He’s big for it

And it’s small for him

But there he is anyway

On this comfy cozy December day

In the arms of the airplane plant

Propellors whirring

The air is stirring

And I wonder…

Who will punch his ticket

And where oh where

Will he go….

****

ellie894 December 7, 2021

Where did I leave that rhyme

Mortimer

Some days

I just can’t seem to think

Eyes wide open

There’s no time to blink

Perhaps a rhyme finds me

and so kindly

reminds me

It’s something

Not nothing

And how it would love

to come out to play

On this very

not thinking

or blinking

kind of day…

****

ellie894 December 4, 2021

endless…

Nearly,

lose my

…footing …

on days like this,

when there are

endless reasons

to look up…:)

***

Have a beautiful day ☺️🦋

****

ellie894 November 30, 2021

With a sunset view…

It’s not often, that you find

the Wall Street Journal in

the woods. In fact,

never have before today.

Nevertheless,

there it lay. I’ll leave it be,

in case the raccoons

want to check their stock portfolios. And,

the birds haven’t finished

their crossword puzzle,

yet. An eagle flew,

a buck walked, the picnic table

sits empty, as do the chairs

gathered round about

the campfire, gone cold. oyster shells

are strewn far from the sea, their pearly white

showing and all cast aside

under the great loblolly trees.

The catfish feeder turned

wasp den was unhinged, pried up

and taken from its proud perch.

And the wasps along with it.

A teepee built from

fallen bric a brac, faces due west

with a lovely sunset view. And there’s no sign

out front for sale or rent.

It’s a long way….from Wall Street,

This quiet place far from nowhere

Take off your shoes and

Rest awhile…

****

ellie894 November 29, 2021

the quiet hour…

How,

does this day call

to you, what one

tiny thing does it

ask, which do you

put first, and when

will rise the hope,

that will come to you

at last, do you see

all

the same, where

will you hear

the song, that carefully

holds your precious

name…Is the touch

of kindness, within

your gentle power, the time

is surely Now, this waiting

moment, this

quiet hour…

****

ellie894 November 28, 2021

Dash of Read

Writing is writing,

I think

And I blink

Wherever you are

Pick up a pen

So to begin

Each line, a prize

As wild worlds dance

In the deep of your eyes

What will come next

You wonder and wait….

As the wind blows time

So arrives your fate

Take my hand

Let me give you my words

In verses

In whispers

Ne’er before heard…

****

ellie894 November 26, 2021

Thirst

It must have been a novel once

An epic tale, a parched and thirsty, desert quest

Before the winds come

And gather it in a cloudy swirl

to drop upon some distant shore.

A coming of age story

Ripened in the summer’s sun

Then, burned to cinder and ash

Leaving only the glowing embers

of autumn’s dying and rebirth.

A hero’s journey, replete with siren’s song

Haunting the landless oceanic days

With a hint of respite in the sultry ebbs

Only to be tossed once more by the ever looming swells,

Searching the horizon, a flatline of hope

For any sign… a cradle of terra firma.

It must have been a novel once

Before a thousand lines were cut

a thousand more slaughtered

a thousand more, lost to doubt

and so, on and on

Until less than a thousand now are left

Alongside the silvery deep of what remains,

Like great empty banquet halls that wait expectantly

For the waltz to begin with its three quarter time.

A young boy on the concrete edge of night

Relinquishes what holds him fast

Falling headlong into the marble pool

at half passed the midnight moon.

His legs kick furiously

His hands reach knowingly, at what he cannot see

He breaks free!

Taking a deep gasping breath at the fresh sweet air

That only moments ago, could not be found

For even a thousand pieces of gold.

Beneath the tides, the mermaid lives,

the oasis flourishes,

the wheat is baked into bread,

In a place that is and isn’t

In pages and chapters that were stricken before their time.

Leaving us with only a few short verses.

But, what verses they are..

luscious poems of pomegranates, ruby hued and ne’er subdued,

Surely, a novel

If only you read, between the long lost lines…

****

ellie894 November 14, 2021

unmeasurable

The steps that bring me here

Go unmeasured..

When I arrive

The water mirrors the sky

It is neither

ruffled or rippled

Until,

They know for certain

That I am here

Tortillas tear easily

In two

Tiny bits

Taken out of them

By hand

And given away

Leaving the half moon bread

With scalloped edges now

That resemble the flounce

Of a girl’s best dress

Sometimes, Tim Turtle

snags a very BIG morsel

And disappears

Into the depths

To eat his plenty in peace

But he always returns

For one bite more

And with the voracious hunger

Of Big Cats and Tiny Turtles

The lake begins to mimic

the half moon

half eaten flour tort

Ruffling itself

For the sheer joy of it

While the ever blue sky

Simply Smiles on…

****

ellie894 November 1, 2021

gone missing…

I wrote a line

But fast it fled

I wrote another

And off it sped

Now, I sit

At work on a third

Am anxious a bit

As here comes a bird

If down he swoops

Whatever then

If he up and flies

Away with my….

****

ellie894 October 22, 2021

acorns..

For the tree tunnels

And the birds who fly them

For the acorns

And the squirrels who treasure them

For the tails

And the puppers who wag them

For the words

And the writer who writes them

I am thankful…

****

ellie894 October 21, 2021