| "A Red River Home" |
| Nature's Poetry |
 Behind Any Door A garden door, hidden behind years of neglect, waiting patiently in time a key found by chance, turning slowly, a stubborn lock surely, opening, and beyond the door a garden, life gone to sleep, abysmal and forlorn, yet not dead. Slowly, ever so slowly, as surely as spring, new life begins to show, tiny buds begin to form, and as the old is carefully removed, there is promise in this garden. Birds return to the nest, and as if by some kind of magic green echo's throughout the garden, brilliant in its chorus. The song of flowers reaching crescendo as natures fauna blend in, a brilliant garden opus. Ode to Spring Days of constant rain, can the heavens be so sad or are these tears of rejoicing for spring will soon be upon us the earth will unfold and like the tinker uncovering his wares our eyes will open wide in wonder. Natures beauty lies close to the earth where rain clings to wavering grass and dew collects in the small shallow cup of wee lilys. There is a smell to the air of frozen clothes on the line and wet pine needles. A small purple crocus slips a tiny lavender arm towards an angry sky. And for a quivering moment sunlight shines down to let us know heaven offers promise. The stretch and yawn as Mother nature arrises from her comfortable slumber I can hear the vitality of lifes new wonderous cycle. |
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