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!

A Dog’s Prey Drive

Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside. ~Author unknown

Monkey here.

Mama’s been tied up with stuff — a flurry of work, various appointments, and a visit from the Domer — so I seized her laptop for a post of my own. Cool.

Here’s what I’m wondering: What is it with humans and food?

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Still Growing Strong

We shall draw from the heart of suffering itself the means of inspiration and survival. ~Winston Churchill, British statesman and former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

We all complain sometimes about our circumstances.

Things don’t go according to plan. People don’t act the way we think they should. We build up our hopes for something, yet it doesn’t come through.

I wonder if plants ever feel that way.

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Miraculous Beauty

The garden is the poor man’s apothecary. ~German proverb

Patch of wildflowers

I

really

expected

nothing to grow

from this free packet

of seeds someone sent me.

I’d planted free seeds before

and not a single thing came up —

not one weed, no grasses, no flowers.

Blessed is she who expects nothing, right?

Imagine my surprise when I saw these

new beauties popping through the black soil!

First the leaves, followed by flowers —

one pink, one white, one orange —

and there are more to come,

judging by the buds.

A miracle

of nature

appears

here.

Note: This poetic form is a Double Etheree.