Snack time

When the stomach is full the heart is glad. ~Dutch proverb

Here

Is a

Moth, maybe.

Or it could be

A small butterfly.

Having a fine dinner

On this pretty pink zinnia.

Or maybe this is a dahlia.

I’m not sure that knowing should matter.

I just thought you’d enjoy seeing them, too!

Note: This poetry form is Etheree (the single kind, not the double, this time).

Walktober 2021

A little fresh air would be good for you just now. The weather is lovely; and a little stroll in the park will bring the colour back to your cheeks. ~J. Palgrave Simpson, Victorian playwright

Today, I’m joining Robin over at Breezes at Dawn for the annual jaunt known as Walktober. We each take a walk (ride a bike, swim, skate, whatever), post about it (with pictures, if possible), and Robin gathers links to each post so we all can travel together and enjoy other parts of our amazing world.

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Delicate Strength

The spiders with their pot-bellied bodies and beady eyes, are not beauteous objects, but a spider-web in the sunshine with dew upon it, is one of the loveliest things in the world. ~Dorothy Scarborough, American writer

Sparkling drops of water

Play upon her handiwork.

Inconceivable, isn’t it, that

Dew can magnify beauty

Even for such a short while?

Rare is the person on earth

Who can appreciate the weaver

Every bit as much as the creation

By which she’s famously known.

Note: This is an Acrostic poem. You got the message, right?

Deserted

It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home. ~Author unknown

I

Sit here

All day long.

Vacant, empty.

Dreaming of the past,

When I was loved. Needed.

When I kept a family safe

From storms, robbers, and other ills.

Love and laughter filled my rooms, and I

Felt secure in fulfilling my purpose.

Now my family’s gone, and I sit alone.

My lawn untended; my paint peeling,

Grass in cracks, weeds overflowing.

Who will fix me up again?

Will someone please buy me?

Will someone love me?

I can give much!

Don’t let me

Go to

Seed.

Note: Monkey and I pass this ranch-style house on our morning walks, and it never fails to sadden me. I hear the elderly owner passed away several years ago, long after his wife had died and their kids went to live out of state. A daughter came to look over (and, I assume, take what she wanted) after his death, but she hasn’t been back since. There’s no For Sale sign outside. This poem is a Double Etheree.

Late Summer Posies

How magnificent the flower becomes as its youth passes! Even the flowers have their setting sun. ~Auguste Rodin, French sculptor

Autumn is in the air … finally.

The sun’s rays aren’t quite as penetrating, daylight hours are shrinking, the night sky is alive with different constellations from those we saw in May and June.

Sadly, what was dangled before our eager eyes — a return to normalcy after the pandemic of 2020 — has just as quickly slipped away, thanks to new strains of the virus. Awful news from abroad, unrest here at home, and global weather emergencies only serve to dampen our spirits, threatening to strip us of hope.

But beauty never fails to cheer. So, before the season passes, I’m going to share with you some of the pretty plants in my yard. May they make you smile the way they do me!

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Writing Drought

There’s only one person who needs a glass of water oftener than a small child tucked in for the night, and that’s a writer sitting down to write. ~Mignon McLaughlin, American journalist and author

My writing muse has taken flight,

Her disappearance is a fright.

No work in stages,

No counting of pages.

I swear, this just doesn’t feel right.

The drought will pass, or so I’m told,

No need for me myself to scold.

The muse will come back;

I’ll give her no flack

When a manuscript I unfold!