Simply Sunday

Dirt On My Hands

I am the first to admit I can be a little prim and proper regarding dirt and sweat. I have fun memories of playing in the mud as a kid. Didn’t bother me then.

Yesterday, I suggested we go by flowers to plant in our front bed. My husband agreed. But guess what? They don’t transplant themselves.

My job was taking the plants out of the pots, breaking up the soil, and carefully placing them in their new home. My hands got dirty. Black, rich soil even managed to get under my fingernails.

Before you pat me on the back, this was a short project. Only a little dirt and sweat. 😉 The results? Definitely worth getting a little dirt on my hands.

From the Birds

I watch the birds
Flitting around
In my backyard
Each one hatched
From its own egg
With no choice
In the hue of
Its feathers
Or location
Of its nest
Each flying free
Singing a melody
Taking a turn
At the feeders
Happily sharing
Tree branches-
Perhaps there is
A lesson in
Their song
Their flight
Their feathers
A brilliant
Display of beauty
Found in diversity-
I think they are wise,
Those birds-
Not a single one
More important
Than the other

Blackbird by Paul McCartney and John Lennon Kelley Morris, piano

Each Single Spark

Wood neatly stacked
Chilly night air
The lighting
Of the fire
Perfection
First warms
My hands
Then turns
Into a game
Stand with
My backside
As close
As possible
To the flames
As long
As possible
Before running
Back to my seat
Feel the warmth
Spreading thru
My entire body
As I quickly
Sit down-
Content
Gazing
At the flames
A single spark
Catches my eye
I watch until
It disappears
Into the night sky
When sleep comes
I think about
The brevity
Of this life-
Each single spark
Glowing until
It disappears

Noticing

How could
I have missed
Such variety
In its shades?
I suppose
When I was
Younger
Other things
Received
My attention
Easily distracted
Time spent
Looking down
Running ahead
But seldom
Looking around
Taking it all in
Is it possible
The comings
And goings of life
Moment to moment
Day to day
Year to year
Are actually
Slowing
Down
Enough
For me
To feel
All
The
Greens
Of Spring

Bald Cypress, Two Rivers Park
Little Rock, Arkansas

Mingling

Gentle breeze
Across my face
Carries hope
For a new day
Lately my mind
Has been stormy
Unable to focus
Thoughts jumping
From one to
The other like
Lightning bolts
On the horizon-And yet,
The storm passed
With a quiet word
A gentle embrace-
Reassurance from
Your presence
Mingling with
The breeze-
Kissing away my fears

Perfect Frame

Head Back
Looking up
Patches of blue
Splashes of white
Visible thru the
Rectangular grid
A work of art
Ever-changing
As the wind
Rustles leaves
In my periphery
Then gently
Cools my face
Music flows
From speakers
Perfectly placed
Behind my head
I listen-looking
Again, at the grid
Then close my eyes
A negative of the
Image remains
Imprinted on
The insides of
My eyelids
Smiling, my foot
Quietly taps along
With the beat
Chair rocks
Back and forth
Every muscle relaxes
Underneath this
Perfect frame
I open my eyes
Once again to
The changing view

Pink Petals

Pink flowers
Graced
The bed
Yesterday
Fluttering
In the breeze
As if to say
Isn’t it a lovely day?
Rains came
Winds grew
Now pink petals
Cover the ground
I don’t think
They are sad
Just seeing
The world
From a new
Perspective
Knowing
Their blooms will
Remain in memories
As they fade into dust

I wrote this poem at a recent writing circle with Ali Grimshaw. flashlightbatteries I continue to enjoy this process and the lovely people I’ve gotten to know. 💞

Lost in Thought

I was a little grumpy when I got home yesterday. The reasons don’t matter. But any little thing seemed to grate on my nerves. As my frustration rose, I suddenly had a thought. Why don’t you go to the other room and play your piano?

I don’t know why this solution doesn’t appear faster in my brain.

Sitting down at the piano, I opened one of my favorites, Schumann’s Scenes from Childhood, a beautiful set of short pieces. The first few I played didn’t fit my mood. Then I landed on Reverie. Just what I needed.

After playing it several times, I became curious about the original German title-Träumerei. Reverie is the translation in my edition, and I wanted to make sure my ideas matched the original intent. One definition said, “pleasant reveries, daydreams.”

I got lost in my thoughts, listened to myself play, then wrote this poem. I felt much better. 🙂

Reverie

Staring out
The window
Dreaming of
Sunny days
Even though
Today is gray
Running free
Through a
Golden field
Of sunflowers
Rolling
Without
Reserve
Down a
Grassy hill
Walking
Innocently
Hand in hand
Along a dirt road
Daydreaming-
Time well spent
Lost in thoughts
Energy renewed
Before heading
Back to the now

Reverie from Scenes from Childhood by Schumann Kelley Morris, piano

Curiosity

A little childlike fun today with these two poems. 🌺 💭

Hello, Flowers

Tiny flowers grow
Under the window
Just outside
Reaching with
All their might
Hoping to be seen
Tiny feet stand
Under the window
Just inside
Reaching on tiptoes
Wondering what is
On the other side
A little help, please
Tiny feet walk
Out the door
Holding a hand
Toes touch the grass
Eyes spot the flowers
Under the window
Hello, flowers
Under my window

The flowers smile
Hello little one
We were hoping
You would visit

The Friendly Cloud

A cloud phoned
The other day
Taking a break
From all its
Floating around
Needing to rest
It grew still
And quiet
Like a giant
Cotton ball
Sitting in
The blue sky-
Thought I’d check-in
See if you needed anything

Said the cloud
Well, I said
Today has been hot
With little wind
I’m quite enjoying
Your cool shade-

Glad to help
Said the cloud
Maybe next time I call
You will need a little rain-
Maybe so…
Maybe so…