~~ a calendar quindecim ~~
The trees are leafing, spring is in the air,
but its mood is sour and has not been fair
in weather put forth for all to enjoy
active involvement of an outside toy.
Instead, weekly thunderstorms are brewing,
along tornadic funnel path strewing
debris consisting of homes and huge trees
ripped up by the roots, carried by the breeze
on a not so fun ride to where 'twill abide--
forty or fifty feet laid on its side.
The storms set down. They travel on the ground
for miles while local warning sirens sound.
Otherwise, the days present as a mix--
some sunny and mild, providing a fix
for wintertime blahs we may need to nix.
Limbs are bursting with new life at each bud,
flowers peek through in their beds filled with mud.
Yellow-green clouds billow upper reaches,
against superior backdrop fetches
passersby attention, birds on the fly
seek rest from journeys soaring through blue sky.
The sun shines brightly, gardens are planted,
lakes and rivers call to souls needing soothed,
and hiking trails beckon fitness imbued
to engage in the life so long now queued--
waiting for the day living would return
with loads of energy begging to burn.
Actions the virus held in abeyance
now returning 'midst movement and cadence
high in the mountains and low in the fens.
Springtime seems to be calling out this year
to the souls and spirits of all who hear
her luscious promise so precious and clear.
Pain in our hearts for the victims of war.
Such an odyssey--fallacies afar--
blaming the innocent for their own fear.
How to learn from the daily wear and tear,
decrease the valence? With good intent we share
and attend the pain and suffering they bear.
It nay alleviates hate in the air
nor shields from the agony wrought anywhere
when the world looks on, tells them of our care.
No matter what we say as war instills pain,
hearts will ne'er reclaim the old peace again.
Remembrance o'er-shadows all occasion.
Photo Above: by Yoksel Zok @Unsplash.com.
~~ a calendar quindecim
April showers may cause the creeks to rise
and oft produce stormy clouds in the skies.
The rain comes down, soaks into earth
giving surroundings brilliant rebirth.
Flowering trees, plants nigh to us
get into the act--glorious!
How does God know when to provide
a boost to spirits 'round the world.
Greening the trees and grass to mow.
planting the seeds in rows to hoe,
helping the victims of flooding--
we stay busy all through the Spring.
Re-cooping from Covid-19,
we rebuild lives somewhere between
where they once were and visions seen.
Watching the ripples as they grow
touching more lives than we can know.
We are oft engrossed in our world,
paying no heed to what is hurled
away toward others losing all
when storms and flooding come to call.
Some suffer--reeling in silence--
others will wail, seek recompense,
but some will look up, try to help
heal the pain of another's whelp--
knowing healing comes from giving
to those about who are grieving.
Always look outward and you'll see
the love you give comes back to thee
in many ways, but always free!
Photo Above: by Clem Onojeghuo @Unsplash.
~~ a Springtime quindecim
The world slowly opens its eyes,
sleep lazily drifting away--
from a year of treatment trial
to real-life--so far from benign.
Changes await--careless and wise;
whate'er we do, whate'er we say,
the virus spreads 'mongst us still,
and more choose to brave the vaccine.
Beleaguered businesses devise
plans to re-open 'midst the fray;
some return with variant viral
increase showing no let-up sign.
What was is done, ne'er will it be
relived. The things--this day--we see
matter, e'en when we disagree.
Winds of Spring challenge Winter's droll
as temperatures rise and fall.
The "Lion," chased by frolicking "Lamb,"
skitters into the waking woods,
then returns with his empty bowl--
whistling sweetly, utters a call
to Springtime warmth, mimicking clam--
then lowers it to scoop his "goods."
Remnant sweetness drifts to the shoal,
settles against debris strewn wall--
although it did spare Birmingham--
while moving on to other 'hoods.
Awakening is bittersweet
as the month pulses to its feet
when Winter's cold and warmth do meet.
As Winter draws to a close and Springtime opens her eyes, we all await warmer days with antsy anticipation. A combination of factors makes this "looking forward" even edgier this year: the Covid-19 pandemic, the social distancing and disinfecting protocols to protect self and others, the record-breaking snowfall and temperatures, the toll taken by both the pandemic and the weather. Even as we are hopeful for a year of recovery, health, happiness, and prosperity, we face new challenges in various forms. Look ahead with assurance of the fact: "This too shall pass," (Anonymous).
Photo Above: by Gerd Altmann @pixabay.com.
~~ a calendar quindecim ~~
March's April . . .
As we float into March midst swollen banks
the forecast calls out for more days of rain.
Snowing and freezing of recent past ranks
among the worst recorded earthly pains.
Now, thawing, raining, and flooding ramp up;
predictions of severe weather winds wrap
coming days in showers and springtime temps
resembling April much more than March winds
to which we have become more accustomed.
The plowing and planting we want to tend
must wait for those winds to dry things a bit
when the soil for tilling will be more fit.
The winds with less rain blow in days of spring
when the crocus buds and the blue birds sing,
dusk temps are suited for the front porch swing.
Photo Above: by AndreyKonstantinov@Unsplash.com.
~~ by tkbrown
Now finding ourselves in the beauty of fall
as Old Jack Frost ponders, propels a call,
Old Father Time sputters a bit,
finds the hour lost in spring is a fit--
filling the sputter occurring now
as Old Jack Frost to time doth bow.
Wakening early from habit, but seeming not
as bio clock adjustments are sought
but incomplete, leaves us a void
in time and thought, ne'er enjoyed.
Circadian rhythm bereft, not yet replete,
swaying left and veering right
attempting to level, align the glide--
but depleting, tossing that hour aside--
its enjoyment lost
midst the effort spent to reorient
mind and body in time and space,
renewing the voyage with seeming grace.
By the time the body reconciles,
it has physically and mentally traversed miles
beyond enjoyment of the hour refitted
by Old Father Time on a journey committed
to one and all--a juggling of that hour betwixt
Spring and Fall--enjoyed daylight predicts.
Sleeping away the hour saved
ensures 'twill never be extolled or raved
midst talks of 'past' in future days.
Ne'er can be told of bright sunrays
casting vim and vigor upon paths chosen
to be trod with life and limb beholden.
So, choose ye well the spending of your time,
awakened or sleeping in a surreal mime
of what might have been
in that undisturbed hour -- but then . . .
either way, if ye spend it well
there will be a tale to tell.
Photo Above: copyright Shutterstock.com.
~~ by tkbrown
“Spring Cleaning: Sometimes I must mess up a clean room in order to clean out the mess others do not see.”