Poems, Personal Stories, and Observations

Posts tagged ‘California’

The Animal Chorus

We don’t live in the wilderness
But, nevertheless,
Plenty of creatures entertain us
‘Round ‘bout my house

Seagulls and crows –
Didn’t think they’d mix
But they’re up to tricks
Like picking our roof apart

They congregate in noisy flocks
They roost in the ash and redwood trees
They wheel and turn in the chill, clear sky

(Once when the wind was rising
In the California summer
And fires began to rage in the distance
The crows wheeled ominously above
With loud and raucous screeching)

Squirrels add their voice to the chorus
With angry squawking at my cat
Or spiraling up (or down) the trees,
Chasing each other

Butterflies bring silent rest notes
To the symphony

I hear a hum – nothing less
Than a hummingbird
Doing acrobatic dips and swirls

And in summer
The fence lizard skitters shyly away

The animal chorus –
Perhaps out of tune,
But welcome in the silence

California Hills

The summer hills, so tawny brown,
Like lion’s fur – his kingly gown

The deep green oaks prance ‘cross the land,
While rabbits run on shady strand

A drying lake, or river dammed,
Shows darkened shores – dried water’s land

But someday soon, the rains will come –
The grasses green — late fall begun

California Autumn

It’s raining redwood seeds
and flocks of geese
dance noisily over my head.

Cool night air, alive with life,
comes through my window;
it smells so fertile.

No snow as yet,
and better yet,
the rain may come.

The promise of rain
is teasing us.

If rain will come,
the earth will bloom again —
and so my heart.

California Fields

The California fields in driest dust did lie
While other realms with snow, and rain, and ice did vie.

The fields lay fallow, perhaps with needful rest.
It might, somehow, work out for all the best.

I’m not a farmer, nor a country lad,
But farmer’s plight doth somehow make me sad.

By the Little River

By the Little River,
We laid our burdens down.
All our heavy baggage,
Our sins, our tears, our frowns.

By the Little River,
We heard the seagulls cry,
The seals and the buoy bells,
The foghorns as they sighed.

By the Little River,
The ocean waves did lure
Our hearts into a daydream
To joy intense and sure.

By the Little River,
We will go back once more.
I know that you’ll come with me
Along that peaceful shore.

—– Little River, California, July 22, 2014

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