A well spoken Martian came calling last week
He popped in the house for a chat
Though I wasn’t displeased
When he coughed and he sneezed
I was miffed when he swallowed my cat
He said “ I am frightfully sorry,
It isn’t like me to do that
You must think me a hog,
For I much prefer dog,
Or a rodent, like rabbit or rat”

FIRST FLOWER

After a great to-do beneath the surface of the ground
the loam cracked and shook, one minute green tip shot up
the thrust of a sword searching in circular movement for the sun,
that spinning ball of fire with leaping flames
that lights up our rotating earth in spasms rhythmical,
all matter in the woods is ever moving, turning,

Should you think to look for me
some day after I have gone
the grave is not where I shall be,
of that you can depend upon.

Why would you hope I would be bound
to bones and dessicated flesh
mouldering in the cold dark ground
where the winds never blow fresh?

Look for me in a chill sunset
at the end of a cold winter day
when the moon has not quite risen yet
to announce the end of day.

Nostalgic....
At times I feel

Nostalgia is far overpowering
as we all recall
the times gone by

I do have such a memory,
implanted in my mind’s eye

for over many a decades
as if 'twere yesterday
but the memory remains till today
as if twas happening
this moment right-away
and I do say
pray,

let memories be our comfort,
all day

Let the night be chilly if it may
but memories will indelibly
memories stay

as if it was just yesterday…