January brings the snow,
makes our feet and fingers glow.
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.
March brings breezes loud and shrill,
stirs the dancing daffodil.
April brings the primrose sweet,
......
THE PUDDING MASTER OF
STANLEY BASIN
Tree, snow and rock beginnings, the mountain in back of the
lake promised us eternity, but the lake itself was filled with
thousands of silly minnows, swimming close to the shore
......
The bicycles go by in twos and threes -
There's a dance in Billy Brennan's barn to-night,
And there's the half-talk code of mysteries
And the wink-and-elbow language of delight.
Half-past eight and there is not a spot
Upon a mile of road, no shadow thrown
That might turn out a man or woman, not
A footfall tapping secrecies of stone.
I have what every poet hates in spite
Of all the solemn talk of contemplation.
......
Have you not heard his silent steps?
He comes, comes, ever comes.
Every moment and every age,
every day and every night he comes, comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind,
but all their notes have always proclaimed,
'He comes, comes, ever comes.'
......
First there was lightning and then came rain
the glory of it all I cannot explain.
The crash of thunder and the falling limb
And then there was silence, dark and dim.
It brought back memories of the cottage on Michigan shores
Where I spent my youth in Summer lake chores.
The old pump-organ which accompanied our singing
Filled the night with vibrate ringing
The fun-filled days, sailing and kayaking
Shopping at Johnson's frolicking and yakking
......
On posts of gaunt and naked bamboo
spread forth the green banner
beyond the scorched hills.
Let it flutter loosely
across the blue sky.
The sun is a witness today.
Within this hiatus of sun-witness
......
Empyrean drops,
Monument of July,
The pluvial chapter of life...
O July of enfeebled yolk,
Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence,
God has watered your tongue.
Therefore, pour, July, pour
The essence of life,
The grit of living
......
watching fireworks through the skylight
i feel pretty tonight
sprinkles on the ceiling
always lick off the frosting
dizzying silliness
accompanying unadulterated bliss
why can’t life always feel like this
This is the place that I love the best,
A little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest,
Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,
Summer retreat of the birds and bees.
The tenderest light that ever was seen
Sifts through the vine-made window screen--
Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls
On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.
......
We must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,
Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon
Burst suddenly upon a frozen world
Small joy would follow, even tho' that world
Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting
Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,
What death and devastation would ensue!
......