April 2 - End of Winter

End of Winter

I stumbled on a picture I took a week ago

While I was out walking after spending days inside;

Doing the obligatory loop around the neighborhood

To survey the aftermath of winter's final gasp.

We'd had two feet of snow upon the ground

Just a few days ago. Then the warm winds came,

Brought back the drizzle, making mush

Of all that sound-softening blanket

That had made a reverent place of our little wood,

For a day or two and kept us warm and snug inside.

Now all that's left are traces piled in chunks

Along the streets and sidewalks where

Travelers afoot and drivers wheeling along the road

Had pushed the snow up in piles beside the ditches.

A few sturdy hunks of white remain, softly sheening,

A glaze laid on by relentless mist and rain.

Green grass, watered slowly pushes up behind

The snow as it is gently washed away,

And the wood is not so quiet anymore, the birds not so reverent

And spring is here again with a frenzy of demands.

April 1 - If I Were God

If I Were God

Were I God, I would not wish

To lose a single beautiful thing

I would take them all as trophies

And when I returned I'd sing,

A victory song o'er all the beauty

That my children saved from loss

Singing over every child of mine whose art

Reflects what such salvation cost.

Were I God, each song, each painting

Each precious thing my children made

In unconscious imitation of creation

Each farmer, each gardener with a spade

I'd gather them all up and carefully transplant

Each musician, singer, poet, healer and homemaker,

Each one who rescues animals, birds or kids

Each child who is a by choice a giver, not a taker.

If I were God, I'd make the world anew;

Strip it bare and start it up again.

I'd scatter my children over every inch

To build homes and rich gardens to grow and tend

To build airy boats, to make wings to soar

Upon the seas and winds like birds all colored bright

To spread joy and wonder as their Father does,
And to drink eternity by Creation's healing light.
 

© 2017 by Tom King

The Earth Breathing

Photo © by Glenn Sackett

The Earth Breathing

Sunrises are the opposite of sunsets.

Sunsets make you breathe out,

Sunrises make you breathe in.

The deep and rhythmic breathing of the day.

© 2017 by Tom King

Lifting With My Legs

I remember skipping down a woodland path

Because when I was young - it was faster than walking

And not as much work as running flat out;

Skipping’s just the speed for taking in the scenery.

I was a kid then with strong bones and healthy joints,

Because I got my daily servings of dairy and vegetables

And I avoided swimming for at least one hour,

After eating all those recommended daily allowances.

Over the years, I was told to stay out of drafts
Because I might catch pneumonia

And wore a hat in winter so that

I would not catch my death of cold.

My bosses told me lift with your legs

Because it will save your back from damage

And so I religiously lifted with my legs.
And sure enough it saved my back.

I have never had a broken bone in all my life

Because of all that calcium and the veggies,
And I wore a hat and never got pneumonia – not at all;

And never drowned and so far haven’t caught my death.

I seldom skip these days, satisfied with a more leisurely pace

Because all that lifting with my legs apparently wrecked my knees

Running’s too much work, skipping’s out of the question,

But my back’s terrific - so far so good.

© 2017 by Tom King

Music on Demand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Music On Demand

Sometimes you have to break out in song;

Maybe when you’re driving down the road

And a song you like comes on the radio

Or you grab a CD stuck in the visor.

Life ought to be a musical.

It actually is one in my head,

Whether anybody can hear it or not.

Inside I’m singing my heart out.

                   

                      ……and maybe dancing a little.

© 2017 by Tom King

Roses as Garnish

Roses as Garnish

Our doe has left her hoofprints
In the new snow along the driveway

On either side, the prints of her young in tow

A yearling and a spring fawn.

We call them ours

For they live in our wood,

And feed in the bogs and gardens

And steal fruit from our apple trees.

I’d buy some bags of corn

And set it out for them except

If I did the neighbors would complain
About the roses eaten as a garnish.

We never know, deer nor dog

Nor human being, just when to stop

Nibbling at the flowers even

When there is plenty of corn to be had.

© by Tom King

Plush Angels

Plush Angels

It’s in their eyes you see it

Trust looking back at you from dark pools;

Eyes shining full of animal love.

Dogs and horses are like that you know.

God’s plush angels; ministering spirits

Unconditional love in those eyes

The master teacher delivering lessons

Through the humblest of teacher’s aides.

By Tom King

© 2017