The Rain

The day has dawned in dark today,
As rain is falling down,
The fog has covered both land and waves,
And is rolling all around.
The clouds are dark and heavy,
And the birds are in their nests,
As many little raindrops,
Come to the earth to rest.
But soon the fog will roll away,
And the sun will shine again,
A rainbow ripples in the sky,
Over the worn dirt lane and fen.

The Picnic

The bees are buzzing brightly,
I pass trees and touch their trunks,
Young girls are giggling gaily,
As their brothers rough and romp.
The Nannys knit their napkins,
The Sun does show his shine,
The world is warbling with goodwill,
While the sparrows stir their stumps.
This picnic perfumes the pondside,
With the ghost of good old grapes,
And fried chicken is found at it's finest,
In a basket with blueberry buns.
This poem may not appeal to your appetite,
For it's true that trusty ryhmers trembled,
But alliteration asuages the agony,
And perhaps some form of reason's assembled.

A Day

Dawn is rising from her slumber,
From her palace in the sea,
Bursting forth with glorious brilliance,
Caressing the earth so gently.


Noon is dancing in the blue sky,
High above the world she twirls,
Laughing gaily as the wind blows,
Through her shining golden curls.


Evening sits down by the river,
Quietly she sings a song,
And as the notes echo back softly,
The birds join in and sing along.

Night runs swiftly across the heavens,
Pulling her mantle 'cross the skies,
She waves at stars while passing by them,
And silence she with moonlight ties.

The Seasons (To Mom)

Flowers sway in new, clean air,
As birds do sing so soft,
The deer are wandering through the wood,
Spring holds her head aloft.

As sunlight sparkles o'er the water,
And clouds are passing by,
The breeze is warm and gentle,
On his throne Summer lies.

The trees their branches wave about,
As cloaks of leaves they shed,
The sky is clear and cloudless blue,
As Autumn wears her mantle of red.

The snow in drifts does pile high,
Above the frozen ground,
The bears in their caves are sleeping now,
In his palace of ice Winter's found.

The Dewdrop

A small and shining dewdrop,
My eye caught as it lay,
On the petal of a flower,
In light of a new day.

The little dewdrop hung there,
While 'round the world grew bright,
And little birds were singing,
A song with all their might.

And as I gazed upon it,
This dewdrop small and frail,
A tear came to my eye,
I stopped on well worn trail.

The sun was now fast rising,
The dew would soon fall away,
Then I smiled as I thought,
"But tomorrow's another day".

Whispers of the Lord

I hear the whispers of the Lord,
Along my life's long way,
In the sighing of the wind,
And the sun's warm ray,
In the rustling of the leaves,
And creak of branches long,
In the babbling of the brook,
And red robin's song.
In the crashing of the waves,
Upon the rocky shore,
And in the fade of paint from rain,
That's on my cottage door,
I see it in the wind-swept clouds,
So high above the ground,
And in the tiny drops of rain,
That from them patter down.
I feel it in the new spring air,
Over green countryside,
And in the golden hue of rock,
In canyons deep and wide.
But when I feel it most of all,
Is after woe or fear,
With His strong arms around my heart,
And His voice in my ear.

Spring's Song

When the bells ring out their anthem,
And the birds join in refrain,
The wind will whisper on so softly,
To the patter of the rain.
The trees will lash their branches lightly,
Dancers of the Spring's first song,
The woodpeckers will drum the rhythm,
In the sunlight growing long.
The fish will spalsh with wild abandon,
While the river laughs with glee,
Dragonflies slip o'er the water,
With wings of colors so lively.
And then comes dusk, with her dark mantle,
Chased by the moon with words so sweet,
All the stars look on in silence,
With satisfaction that's complete.

The Desert's Call

The sun does rage in turquoise sky,
The wind whips through the air,
And I upon my way do walk,
With sand in clothes and hair.
The desert is a savage place,
Full of dangers hidden,
But soon you'll find that it's embrace,
Does warm your heart unbidden.
Yes, full of danger it might be,
But vibrant life is there,
Clinging to each precious drop,
Of water pure that's there.
And when at last I reach the town,
Under haughty human leer,
I'll look upon the desert's face,
"I'll be back, never fear."

The Squirrel

I climb about,
And touch the sky,
Through branches,
And the air I fly,
My tail unfurls,
Behind me while,
I chatter on,
With toothy smile,
I pillage fruit,
Of beech and oak,
Hiding them,
With dirt as cloak,
I know not where,
I have put them,
Under bush,
Or daisy's stem?
I scurry quick,
Where leaves abound,
Above the dangers,
Of the ground,
At last I reach,
Home, cool and dark,
While crickets chirp,
And dogs do bark.

(This one's for you, C.P.)

The Wind

The wind is whistling softly,
Passing through the trees,
It's in a gentle mood today,
A warm and lovely breeze.

The wind is everywhere right now,
Blowing different ways,
You can't tell where it will go,
On these playful days.

The wind is howling loudly,
At the cottage door,
It mourns for warmth and comfort,
These are things that it yearns for.

The wind is tearing at the waves,
Of the ocean blue,
It is angry yet again,
That the rain's untrue.

And through the stages of the wind,
Through the breezes and each gale,
The wind is ever present,
With it's own erratic tale.

Sun Bathing

As I lay upon the grass,
Bathing in the sun,
I close my eyes and dream of things,
That no one yet has done.
I climb the highest mountains,
Look down upon the world,
All the lakes and glens,
Through clouds that writhe and curl.
I'll dive the deepest ocean,
And swim the sea so long,
Only coming up when,
I've heard the mermaids' song.
I'll tame the fiercest lions,
And teach the dogs to sing,
Then watch the clouds of butterflies,
Blocking sun with wing.
And when at last I travel back,
To where I started from,
I'll wake to the old pond-ducks loud quack,
And the honey-bee's soft hum.

The Forest

The sun high in the winter sky shines so brightly down,
Waiting for the evening to in the ocean drown,
The clouds are floating here and there all about the sky,
As little birds glide to the ground the wind whispers good-bye,
The trees are nodding softly, the cold does sap their strength,
The squirrels do chatter gaily as they run the forest length,
The deer look on in silence, ever watching out for fear,
They know they how slim a chance they have if the hunter gets too near,
All in the forest know just how soon the cold will go,
And up will come the wildflowers, peeking through the snow.

Snow

falling softly from the sky,
Over the ground it piles high,
Making the old world look brand new,
Barely any color peeking through,
There's a flash of brilliant red,
A gay, bright hood on cardinal's head,
Soon it will be gone again,
But I wish it would never end.