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Archive for August 18th, 2013

Awoodlandrose's Blog

So very often
a garden lingers
longer than the gardener’s 
frayed gloves
and loving touch

still scenting
still swaying
growing toward the sun
tended to by butterflies and bees 
wind and rain

without melancholy
without longing
and without knowing
summer’s end
is soon enough.

ag ~ 2013

I wrote this for Robin 
in memory of her many gardens,
but it wasn’t quite finished
until I saw a photo
of her garden gloves.

With peace and love,
(and many more tears),

Andrea

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030-sacramento-2008-04-06

My grandfather said to me
as we sat on the wagon seat,
“Be sure to remember to always
speak to everyone you meet.”

We met a stranger on foot.
My grandfather’s whip tapped his hat.
“Good day, sir. Good day. A fine day.”
And I said it and bowed where I sat.

Then we overtook a boy we knew
with his big pet crow on his shoulder.
“Always offer everyone a ride;
don’t forget that when you get older,”

my grandfather said. So Willy
climbed up with us, but the crow
gave a “Caw!” and flew off. I was worried.
How would he know where to go?

But he flew a little way at a time
from fence post to fence post, ahead;
and when Willy whistled he answered.
“A fine bird,” my grandfather said,

“and he’s well brought up. See, he answers
nicely when he’s spoken to.
Man or beast, that’s good manners.
Be sure that you both always do.”

When automobiles went by,
the dust hid the people’s faces,
but we shouted “Good day! Good day!
Fine day!” at the top of our voices.

When we came to Hustler Hill,
he said that the mare was tired,
so we all got down and walked,
as our good manners required

 by the American writer Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979.

She was the Poet Laureate of the United States from 1949 to 1950.

She enjoyed critical acclaim in her lifetime, and her poetry continues to be widely read and studied. She is considered one of the finest 20th century poets to have written in English.

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MY BABY BROTHER

bearrrrrrrrrrrr

As round as a beach-ball,
As cudley as a bear,
With big blue eyes,
and sandy blond hair.

He giggles so loudly,
As does he cry,
So bold and daring, yet so timmid and shy.

He annoys me a lot,
And puts me through strife,
Yet, like a ray of sunshine,
He lights up my life.

But when bed-time comes,
He crawls away quick,
My baby brother,
Who’s name is Nick.

Madeline Kate Mccabe, Australia

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