HOMELESS IN SPRING

Homeless in Spring

The cardinal’s feathers contrasted
sharply with the hedge bush.
He flitted noisily nearby
until the buzzing hushed.

In disarray, the bush fell
to the daisy-dotted ground.
A hand reached to gather the limbs,
then stopped at a soft, cheeping sound.

A nest of twigs and twine–
home of featherless bird babies–
once secure in the fork of the limbs,
now lay scattered in the daisies.

The cheep–cheep of the birdies
could no longer be denied.
The big man picked them up,
and with no one looking, cried.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

“Thy fate is the common fate of all, into each life some rain must fall . . .” Quoting from “The Rainy Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)

 

 

The Greens of Spring

The Greens of Spring

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.
Eye-popping scenes,
those evergreens!

Freeda Baker Nichols

A freeze is coming
this weekend
snow, maybe sleet
and cold, cold wind.
But’s it’s already April–
the azaleas will die
when the violent storm
comes slashing by.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

 

Banner Mountain Girl # 74

Almost April

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.

It is almost time for April
but it’s raining every day.
Can it be that all these showers
will keep falling until May?
© Freeda Baker Nichols

 

BANNER MOUNTAIN GIRL # 57 from “The Woodlands”

I walked the woodlands on the mountain,
saw the wild geese in their flight,
heard cicadas calling cadence
when the sun slipped out of sight.

© Freeda Baker Nichols

BANNER MOUNTAIN GIRL # 56 My Arkansas Heritage

In Arkansas the Ozarks Mountains rise
in rugged rows of hills, tree-lined and steep
where redbirds flit beneath crisp autumn skies,
and sugar maples’ roots run dense and deep.

And here, we mountaineers are always free
to pass our heritage to every child.
Black bear and white-tailed deer near post oak tree
are sights that welcome me from forest wild.

Fog fingers hide green valleys on wet days
when Arkansas awaits the sun to shine–
my home–a rustic cabin wrapped in leis
of pink azaleas sparkling like grape wine.

A welcome sound–Abe’s banjo by the stream
on nights when hounds forsake the mountain trails
and sleep stretched out in bravo just to dream
the hot pursuit of foxes with red tails.

I’m glad I married Abe and settled down
to raise our blue-eyed, little family
on banks of this Red River town
where Arkansas forever calls to me!

© Freeda Baker Nichols

 

To Rake the Leaves — Day Five NaPoWriMo

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.

Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

To the Rescue

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!”

c Copyright, 2012, Freeda Baker Nichols