little squirrel in the water oak– rainy day
Horse-drawn mower rusts and the horse rests.
ninety two degrees no breeze on the mountain naptime
Cougar on a post.
Owl photo, copyright 2013 by Dianne
When it’s Autumn in the Ozarks
and all the animals are fed.
When the hoot owl calls at nighttime
while I lie in my little bed.
The who-who sound is repeated,
far away, yet as close as night
that is dark outside my window–
the owl must be a pretty sight.
And oh, if I could find that owl
who gently wakes me with its call,
I would join it in the treetops
and not go back to sleep, at all.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
Blue wings flutter!
He aims his shotgun,
index finger firm against the steel.
They flush, moving upward
In one split second
He feels the impact of an artist’s color wheel.
Carefully, he squeezes the trigger.
Shot scatters, blue wings flap higher–
Imprints on the canvas of the day.
They peel skyward
as the report of his shotgun dies away.
c Copyright 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols
From: Poems for sharing, Arkansas Magazine,
and Poems by Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas