Poetic Blooming harvest time

Sweet Deal

We neighborhood kids would run across fields,

over creeks and up and down wooded hills.

We would play make-believe with TV names,

all kinds of sports, an assortment of games.

We rode our bicycles and took our spills.

With all that action, we needed a snack.

Near harvest time, we didn’t have to go back.

All kinds of apples and elderberries,

plums, cherries and grapes from bushes and trees,

blackberries and hazel nuts, hard to crack.

And all of that fuel would last meal to meal.

Was free for the taking, we didn’t steal.

We thought ourselves lucky and even blessed.

To live how we did, we thought it the best.

Our friends from town didn’t have such a deal.

Poetic Bloomings Word Soup

Planting a Tree

We neighborhood kids looking for something to do,

on a brisk autumn day, we planted a tree.

We went up in the woods and found a young maple

and dug around roots, oh so, carefully.

We got permission from our neighbor’s dad

to put it in at the foot of their yard.

We each took turns at manning the shovel,

then patting the earth, which was cold but not hard.

As the years went by, we watched that tree grow,

so beautiful with red leaves in the fall.

It wasn’t till later, we learned that the dad

did not want a new tree in his yard at all.

He didn’t think it would grow, so he had said yes.

But it did something magical all the years through,

growing tall and proud with branches outstretched.

Sometimes kids will surprise you with what they can do.

Poetic Bloomings comfort food

Mom’s Chicken Noodle Soup

On chilly autumn days,

when we felt under the weather,

Mom would make us chicken noodle soup,

not just any chicken noodle soup.

She’d start with Wyler’s chicken noodle,

the instant packaged kind.

But the tiny Wyler’s noodles

wouldn’t fill a bird’s belly.

She mixed it in with macaroni,

which made it more filling.

The two different textures

did something magical.

I like to think Mom’s noodles

prevented many doctor visits.

I always felt better after eating

this yummy meal.

Funny thing is, I don’t remember

ever making them as an adult

or even giving them to my kids

when they were sick.

By then, I found frozen

homemade-style noodles,

but so rich, more often or not,

they gave me a headache.

So now in my retirement  years,

it might be a good time

to get out mom’s special recipe

of Wyler’s noodles and macaroni.

Poetic Bloomings wind

Catching Leaves

The wind would whisk the leaves about

On chilly autumn days

We kids would chase them with a shout

Looked like a dancing craze

I also loved the vibrant sound

The wind would make through trees

Our feet would keep time on the ground

As leaves would tempt and tease

Sometimes they’d flit just out of reach

And we would leap and grab

And then we’d yell and squeal and screech  

Until the leaves, we’d nab

Poetic Bloomings orange

Only Fourteen

When I was fourteen, I loved orange.

I painted my bedroom tangerine.

When I was fourteen, I also loved

a seventeen-year-old  guy named Drew.

Every day of my fourteenth year,

Mom said, “You’re only fourteen!”

at least two or three times.

I didn’t think I’d ever reach fifteen.

Because of my love for orange, Drew and I

painted his MGB orange but didn’t wear masks.

For about a week, we blew orange into tissues.

Our relationship lasted on and off for four years.

After his dad died, we painted his living room orange.

I celebrated such abundance of orange.

I would have been happy if the whole world

was monochromatic in shades of orange.

I guess you can say I saw everything

through orange-colored glasses.

Even to this day, the color orange

reminds me of those teen years.

And I often think, “I was only fourteen.”

Poetic Bloomings cornucopia

Perspective

When we were little,

our teachers would decorate

walls and windows with

pictures of horn-shaped baskets,

filled with fruit and vegetables

and talked about how early Americans

celebrated such abundance.

That seemed ho-hum to me.

But a basket filled with

cookies, cakes, candy bars,

puddings, peanut brittle,

chocolates, and apple pie,

now, that would definitely

be worth celebrating!

Poetic Asides Ecstatic

Ecstatic

E nergetically

C elebrating

S ituations

T alents

A nd

T reasures

I n

C ircles