Cedars and pines
at the edge of the lawn
on breezy days when the sun shines,
look brighter in the hour just after dawn.
There is a glow
from trunk up to treetop–
they really put on quite a show
in spring. Their displays never ever stop.
It is almost time for April
to arrive in colors bright.
Forsythia shines in yellow,
hyacinth in blue delight.
The wildflowers pop up pink,
apple blossoms white as snow
while dandelions hug the lawn
to begin the springtime show.
The March wind did not come in March, instead
it came today.
It blew and whistled like a loggerhead
or donkey’s bray.
I tried so hard to rake decaying leaves.
Each time I tried
the wind kicked up and that caused me to sneeze
until I cried.
I threw the rake aside to wait for wind
to cease to blow
and when it did I looked about and grinned.
Where did they go?
Those leaves! Not even one left on the ground.
March wind is the best help that I’ve found.
My pocketbook is a favorite thing;
I keep it close like a diamond ring.
It’s the first thing I see in morning light
and the last thing I put away at night.
It’s soft yet sturdy, is tossed here and there;
I keep telling myself: treat it with care.
Once, it was new and stood out like a star.
Now, it is greasy from fries spilled in car,
has crayon mark on its long leather strap,
been used like a pillow for grandkid’s nap.
Its zippered compartments hold stuff, you see,
like checkbook, tissues, my extra car key,
safety pins, paper, phone numbers, a card,
last year’s receipts from big sale in front yard,
lipstick, toothpick, one old quarter, one new,
dog-eared pictures, bottle of Elmer’s glue;
trident, spearmint, my state’s license to drive.
It contains nothing I need to survive,
and yet I take it wherever I go,
vacation out West, I had it in tow.
In desert, we stopped to rest for a while.
As husband checked engine, I said that I’ll sit down at this picnic table nearby.
I jumped when I heard a sharp, sudden cry.
“Bring pocketbook!” husband said with a shout.
“Need your key! Car’s running and I’m locked out!”