A micro story in verse for all who believe in romance – love is always young!
we sat beneath a pine tree our backs resting against bark hands sticky with sap we were full of big ideas bursting with the vigor of youth we picked pinecones and we planted seeds for our future perennials to renew every spring we whispered secrets and we laughed when raindrops fell watering our dreams we followed breadcrumbs into the unknown and called it adventure we knew that love would light the way
Life is a journey – may you travel lightly surrounded by love.
she travels lightly with stars in her eyes believing there is good to be found no one can deter her as she travels northbound embracing what life has to offer I follow her journey with hope in my heart believing that goodness is near and nothing can stop us as we spread our wings and fly bearing the promise of all that's held dear away far away all the way we will go until we reach the other side where wishes come true and love breaks through and hearts are fully alive
This is a short story in verse, about ordinary brilliance and the inner light we carry. It is a reminder that all of us are light bearers – we are made to shine.
Cutting Grass – How To Mow When It Rains Every Day is especially for nature lovers who enjoy poems about the adventures of man against nature!
I step outside to smell the grass freshly cut sweetly fragrant. Lawnmowers growl and prowl the neighborhood trimming whopping chopping blade upon blade ferociously devouring the luscious carpet before the next rain. We are in a wet season punctuated by glaring bursts of sun relentless heat driving an overgrowth of green backyards turning into fields of wildness heavy cutting equipment bogging in the saturated earth. Today the ground is firm enough to withstand the mowers. The clouds are withholding raindrops, like mothers gathering their young for one more embrace one last kiss before opening the gates to let them run free raining joyously in a summer frenzy. "Hurry, hurry," coax the tractor cowboys, urging their machines onward for one last round as the dust kicks up and the trees laugh and sway and the clouds clap with thunder cheering their children in wonder. The riders dismount shoulders slump in defeat. Engines fall silent as rain drums a beat. The raindrop children have come out to play. The man-made machines are done for the day.
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