I snared the first eight lines before tots arrived then
throughout this morning the poem kind of composed itself.
Nap-time allowed me to tether it to page๐
Mist-mantled meadowland at morn...
Plush pastures brushed with blushing brume...
Where children barefoot and carefree
Run through the hearts of you and me
Little Girl; Janet, why do you walk everywhere?
Me, puzzled; Well, that's how I get to where I need to go.
What should I do instead. Crawl?
Little Girl, laughing No!! Run! I run!
๐๐
Yes! She does๐
Where butterfly cavorts with bee
While sipping purple nectar-tea
Where sun climbs into big blue span
Then melts like butter in a pan
Where Baskets brim with task to do
Where harvest hymns ring with ‘thank You’
Like tot, learning to smell, not tug
Like pup waiting for treat or hug
(aw, I missed the shot with her nose in the air yipping her Best Beg, while
Little Girls munched fresh zucchini-nut muffins and pup wanted one too๐๐
She will not take her eyes off the muffins, because, you know,
just in case they drop it, or a few crumbs at least!
Like zinnia, dahlia, marigold
Floral heirlooms from days of old
August; summer’s magnum opus
To thrill forgetful folks…like us
Mist-mantled meadowland at morn
Regimental squadrons of corn
Plush pastures brushed with blushing brume
Lawns dazzled by a diamond-loom
Cricket-staccato’s unfazed lilt
Hexagon-halos of webbed gilt
Gardens; earth-granted paradise
Feasts, planted for our mouth and eyes
Where children barefoot and carefree
Run/dash through the hearts of you and me
Where butterfly cavorts with bee
While sipping purple-nectar tea
Where sun climbs into big blue span
Then melts like butter in a pan
Where Baskets brim with task to do
Where harvest hymns ring with ‘thank You’
Where souls flow over with glad laud
Where we glean gifts bestowed by God
And pause to drink earth’s Beauty in
Like peach-juice, dripping down our chin
With joys running too rife to count
Like hummingbird at lily-fount
Like zinnia, dahlia, marigold
Floral heirlooms from days of old
Like tot, learning to smell, not tug
Like pup, waiting for treat or hug
Like laughter; sparkling on the breeze
Like silver wind chime-melodies
Like Echoes of The Artist's 'Yes'
As Masterpiece of Happiness
Unfolds. Before bloom's exodus
August; summer's magnum opus
© Janet Martin
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!