Mother Nature ran a want ad
In this year's Farmers Almanac

Seems these days she's wearing thin
With the progress made by modern man

She needs a little extra help
With the here and there and there about

The whole earth needs a good sweeping
From the ocean floors to the river streams

From high above to down below
All of the trash that has been thrown

With all the extra mess around
She can't keep up with the dusting down

That is why she placed the ad
In hopes of getting help with that

Resumes started pouring fast
From North to South, East to West

So many from around the globe
Who would have guessed, who could have known

There were so many that were keen
In wanting to keep the Planet clean

Right then and there on the spot
She hired them all, the entire lot

She gave them brooms, their own dust pans
Sent them all throughout the land

To every crevice, every crook
To give the world a spit shine look

So many helpers worked that day
Into the yawning wee hours late

Until the earth was **** and span
Every water splash, every grain of sand

From underneath to over top
Everyone had cleaned it up

Bi-weekly now she runs the ad
Inside the Farmers Almanac

Lingering coastal fog
  climbed up the seaside cliff head
    The windward crest-edge
       sprawling  out
        the rolling waves
        misty breathe,
       shapeless as an ocean
      sigh betides;
    cloyingly crawling
  through the lush
hillside meadow verdure

The clinging mist dissipates
   like teardrops soon forgotten:
      the Dawning of the day
          caressing the evanescent dew;
             an ebbing tide
               remembered for a while...
               Dawn awakening
               newly sun kissed Daffodils
            animated with felicity and mirth;  
         lilting ballerinas
     gracefully swaying,
   contagious with the leavening
    serendipity of the westerly
      sea breeze ~

        Velvet bisque painted
            daybreak constellations,
              embossed by sunrise
               splendor ~
              each root bound bouquet,
            kismet choreographed ballerinas
         in Spring's  Rustic  Ballet


                        Jesse

ROSES,
So valuable, yet full of thorns
He wants it,
But can't stand the prickling.
"All my fingers keep bleeding!
Oh the scars! I can take no more!" Laments he.

LILIES,
Almost of lesser value, sits on a pond's surface.
"Yeah, that will do!" Says he.
"At least I can say I've me a flower.
It might not be worth it, but it will do just fine."

But a frog is perched on it
He's willing to unsit that cursed amphibian,
To get to that vain Lily
Which has no worth
Compared to the Rose,
Simply 'cause it stings not.

Mother nature sighs after watching awhile
"Good things never come easy."
Mutters she.
"One who's deserving of the Rose
Is surely nigh!"

And with time, blossomed did the Rose,
Whilst the Lily withered.

Enchanted by spring’s
rustling whispers
     ... whistles swirl
in the pungent springtime breeze;
steeped with a bedazzling
        cadence
   heart dancing
to a hummingbird’s
         whirs

   waves of breath,
of little wings waft,
whooshing throughout
twining honeysuckle lattice
       a
tiny manger
beset of hidden gold
precious speckled eggs, 
silver lining of smallest hopes
   fruits of fruition
   continuum beheld prize,
concealed in interwoven rootlets;
   
potently perfumed flowers
       while away
the waning dark hours;
swollen full flower moon
           waxing yellow,..
         heavenly fragrance
sweetly-scented suckled nectar
  
the one with eyes of a child,
   wonder ― hidden inside,  
   marvel in the light of grateful eyes
imbibing an unholdable moment's
    spellbinding elixir 
    ... poetry alive

air  so poignantly perfumed
       with blossom
        moonstruck
by spring’s frolicking cadency
a reverent moment's
edifying intoxication

       a sobering beauty that just is...



someone ... May 2017