Yut,
Well, I'd woke up early
**** rooster
just about  the crack of dawn
last crickets chirping loudly
heavy dew carpetin' the lawn
cold air, ya know
can see my breath that time of mornin'
as the tired furnace is  a kickin' in

Stretchin'

Emmmm hmmm, well dat'
woodstove she's a squirmin' with anticipation!
Yes sir,
smell of the incomin' weather
fresh cut and stacked Maple, except them box elder type you know gettin'
researched
Oak too, yut
some Birch ...burns real pretty

I hear them pumpkin patches callin'
eager to win those hearts
and the children
funny duffers in costumes

Ya, beckonin' a reckonin' they are
to become silky pies in their namesake
a big ol' mess left in that wake
from jack-o-lanterns,
& roasted an toasted
seeds of joy we use all win'ter 'round here

Kinda like the sound of them tires on the pavement ya know?
Warm hummin',
they're rustlin' down asphalt
with the leaves
visitors headed home again
will give way to the sloshin' of sleet, freezin' rain
whata' pain

Well here comes the ol' horses
and a wooden cart
to collect the trash
17 years
Percheron prizes them beauties
I really like that sound too
hoves clunkin' in perfect harmony

Yut, agreed,
love this place indeed
clip clopin' along with jinglin' bells soon
straight outta' Robert Frost he is

A symphony of smells
the ringin' of the church bells
time to eat
sighing

"Well...take a seat
Mornin' boys"

Oh Momma's up
Fill up her cup!

Oh thank you kindly
Well, we got some perfectly cooked hickr'y smoked local bacon
Scrambled eggs so beautiful and fluffy they look like clouds of clear yellow sunshine on that plate
those girls did well this year
Maple yogurt I insist on
with that crunchy homemade
sweet n' salty nut Granola
Don't forget some fresh fruit salad
stuff goin' on now
rest been reserved for winter days
Can't say that I'm not lookin' forward
to some wild blueberry pancakes
and that beautiful amber
Vermont maple syrup"

Yut,
was a lotta' work drainin' those sleepin' veins of golden sugar
emmmm
Is a great mornin'

"Good to savor the wonderful gifts the seasons bring, share and enjoy "

We certainly are grateful ma'am.

Take Your Hat Off What's The Hurry?

I am painting word pictures today
tasting hot incoming Autumn  breezes
transforming splendor
dreary rain filled moments pass
bidding adieu
and welcome my rustic bamboo
fare thee well to Summer's sun
now in this Burning September

Entrancing
as the
dancing trees
in changing multicolored hues...
skies of crystal clear blue
cut outs of rolling hillsides
and lush Green mountains
in that endless and seamless quilt
sheltering the storms

My eyes are drawn
past the still lively green leaves
as the burning umber
and cardinal tipped ones
radiating
hat tipped
as chlorophyll ...
choking the beauty outward
from the petiole
like greedy verdant fingers...
the palm of my hand
I linger ...a moment
they wave in soft winds
...and I wave back

I remember
old-time Vermonters
like my Father
didn't care for the Sumac trees
thought perhaps a ****
only beautiful to look at
& they are so very lovely

These happy helpers
say hello to Fall
stick around
when everything else
already brown
holding down
needy dry hillsides
from erosion
growing fast and tall
turning into thickets...
for woodland critters
providing borders
unsung heroes beckon
along railroads,
highways ,
pastured Meadows
and Orchard edges
these beauties...
never really go away.

A harvesting moon
giving seasons
  five months
from the time
the leaves fall off
until they grow back
in the spring time
  serrated leafy knives
cut into the sky
a bittersweet
and bashful goodbye
sighing...
to drunken apples
and their dropping dried leafy friends

Surprisingly scrumptious
providing
we are foraging and gleaning
I make a lovely citrusy
sour and fruity tea
like wild cranberry juice...
imaging the Joy
inviting clusters of crimson know

Providing more than food
for winged ones
a sugar depository
loaded with antioxidants &
spreading sunshine
in darker months

Attracting  lovely colorful winter birds
my winsome friends
seed eaters
small singing kindred spirts...
tempted by seeds pods
of the Staghorn Sumac
and remaining wildflowers
bursting like burgundy globes
scarlet and brick reds
mellow yellows
  turning burning
blazing bright oranges
as the seasonal butterfly dreams
unfolding it's summertime schemes
right before my wondering eyes

  European and English
Gardens know
varieties
I can only close my eyes to see
accentuating loose,
textured landscapes
stunning gardens
& fern-like cousins
across the world
A Middle Eastern grind
of this crimson spice
from those crushed dried drupes
while they prepare rice for dinner

I so appreciate
what a gift we have to share
time is running short before
as told to me in times of yore
we brace as one for Winter's Bone
though I am not alone
Vermont it is my earthly home
all I really want to say
thanks for sharing with me  ...
on this perfect picturesque
Vermont September day.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

You're having a bad day
not everything is good?

Yes, that's very true...
come in and sit down.

You haven't eaten?

Well...
you came to the right place.

Here is a nice armchair,
my Grandmother's from Ethen Allen
yes...
a beautiful deep burgundy color
with goldenrod yellow twirling paisley
in a burning orange background...
lovely she is
her shapely curves...
rugged, straight lines
carved into flowers
her cherry stained legs
worn edges...
so soft, comfortable and weathered

I agree
she is very reliable and sturdy
and she is kind
so forgiving...yes?

Oh, fresh coffee ...
ahhhh you smelled it,
of course
here you go
a steaming cup of hopeful dreaming...
brilliant,
in a aromatic plume of Tahitian Hazelnut
swirling ribbons of fresh Vermont cream
cinnamon rolls in the oven
sugary love smells intoxicating...
yes?
glazed sugar awaiting

as cool crisp dried leafy breezes
flow through waiting drapes of warm white linen

Yes, so very  poetic this place...
A gift...why I'd say!
I love this time of year
very much...
especially the trees...
floating in the air
the leaf dancers drift silently
waving Goodbye in the Fall winds

Welcome to my  Vermont
to the beautiful Green Mountains
in splendid peaking colors
panoramic splendor
The natives so
oh...you know

They call 'em verdant visions
again come springtime
come on, stay awhile
put on a friendly smile
a welcome done in style
my home is your home
take your hat off what's the hurry?

Cherie Nolan © 2016

Sing me back home
to where I need to be
sing me a tune of my
memories
tell me a story
of saddened goodbyes
whisper
a melody of tears
that we've cried

belt out the words
with no holdin' back
I need reminders
to get me on track
takin' the old worn
railroad bed
hummin' along
with the ones in my head

Chorus-
Oh.. how I long to hear
that lonesome whistle blow
as a haunting old sounds will recall
remind me of how
it all faded away
as each passin' moment
remind me of gladness
sung just yesterday
where I left my heart....
behind

kindly paint me a picture
of each Broken Heart
torn down the middle
in a red Jagged line
color the shades
in a envious green
crooning blue ink
my heart
to remind

Oh... remind me...,

yesterday's dreams
and promises broken
open my ears to
the sounds of Goodbye
force me to listen
to people I'm hurtin'
watch every tear
as it drops when they cry

Chorus
Oh... how I long ...
to listen
as Sweet Singin' Tunes
will recall
lovely ol' footsteps
of children
dancin' in summer
down vacant Halls
remind me of how
it all faded a-way
of how I got here
with each passing day
hangin' on evr'y word
that you say
whisper
in words
with smilin'  faces
as my mind returns
as it's slowly
retracin'...

and I .....
remember.... when.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

We were travelin' down
a Lost Highway
Down some Dusty Back Wood Road
Way Out in the Sticks
East of Overshoe
West of Bumfuc*
Out in the middle of nowhere
on a Crazy Hot Summer Afternoon

We had the windows down
Just Whistlin' Dixie
feelin' and shooting
the breezy air conditioning
admirin' the lovely green quiltin' of the
lush Green Mountains

We had some smiles on our faces  
listenin' to the tunes
playin' on the radio

It must have been our favorite song
because we were really singin'
Enjoying the thoughts
that this music was bringin'
As the world just passed on by

I could see it in your eyes
I'm sure you thought it in mine
"And you're right my friend
can I tell you more about it
just up around this next Bend?"

"Cause you got your life going on
and I got mine
but somehow today our lives are....
well... they seem intertwined
And it's all good."

Rocks and pebbles
keep kicking up from those back tires
of a Shiny Turquoise Blue Ford F150 Flareside Pickup Truck
named Lucy
and "I really love that sound ya know?"

"Ya...I do."

"This place
this whole place
it's like a endless and beautiful
picture show
and I don't want to go
home just yet
If you weren't here... I'd swear that I must dreamin' ".....

"So let's pull over
that looks like a good spot right here
You could have another beer
You know....take a Little Rest Stop

"Turn the engine off
just don't take out the key"

"So what are you thinking there
my Cherie?
What's really on your mind?"

"Well... I don't know
just wondered if you can kiss me?"

"Awwwww.....sure I'll kiss you sweetie"

"You know I'm in this really strange place
Something that time....
just can't seem to erase"

"You don't need to explain
and stop racking your brain girl
..It's all good."

As he slowly slid his strong warm hand around the back of my neck
And pulled me in close
I got lost in the most Beautiful
Moment....
Dreaming while I was Wide Awake.

Cherie Nolan © All rights reserved.

Diggin' in the dirt
have a little fun
drink a little beer
have another one

Sun is really hot
and I just want to play
gotta go outside
gotta get away

Go swimming at the crick'
Maybe catch a fish
cook it on the bank
we don't need a dish

Get a little tan
get a little burn
Doesn't really matter
cuz I'll bet we'll never learn

Grab onto the rope
and come on for the ride
It's way too nice out here
for you to stay inside!

Cherie Nolan © All Rights Reserved 2016

"My roots run deep hearn' these Green Mountains of Vermont. "

All Rights Reserved © 2016 Ma Cherie

Seedy weejuns and mule slippers flopped fast
across the cold dewed lawn, laps of breath puffs
churned.  Doing what we did best
burning off the night air, welcoming dawn.

handpicked blueberries in yogurt,
tea on the porch, Ellen,
in desperation to plant a raspberry bush.

jogging through a grasshopper field
holding in screams at the small green chirps
shooting up around my ankles.

grimy trails of sweat, the daddy longlegs
crawling out from under my thigh
the dirt at home under my nails.

nickel-bright stars above
the trees, a cool tress rising,
buzzing in the porch light of
bugs going for our jugulars,
still tight and smooth.

I am the first page of a well-loved novel,
But often the first one ignored,
Dog-eared and transparent at the corners
From the touch of one too many hands
And witness to the enterprising twist of a smile
As my readers are privileged to only pieces of me.

You, like the binding that surrounds me,
Enclose and encircle all that I am. Write a novel
Under my skin. I’ve falsified too many smiles,
Sacrificed even the best of myself for ignorant
Delusions of caressing hands
That take and abuse my corners.

The used bookstore on the corner
Of Middlebury Marbleworks, Otter Creek and window-origami —
My salvation and river-penance. Seek my story with hands
That feel to comprehend, with novel
Softness and a tenderness that ignores
My pleading glances and indecisive smiles

As you speak in hush-whispers. Smile
With your eyes as you touch my spine — corner
Me at the exit. I want you to ignore
Faults, make peace with flaws that inhabit me
Like poetry misplaced within a novel,
Or willow branches falling too low, tired hands.

I memorized the shape of your hands
The first time we danced to Chaplin’s “Smile,”
And wrote on the broadness of your shoulders a novel
Of my sins, apologies stretching to your corners
In villanelles — repeating refrains. It took all of me
To tell you what I could no longer ignore.

Because once you start to ignore
Conflictions that exist in the nerve-endings of your hands,
What you feel becomes a burden. For me,
Sand ran out of the hourglass when our smiles
Stopped touching — and at the corner
Of Maple Street and Printer’s Alley, I said goodbye, our novelty

Gone. Still, I find it hard to ignore what used to be when you smile
As you look at her, your hands on her back in the corner
Of the room. You remain my unfinished novel.