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by Irene Latham

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I hug the tree
the tree holds me
helping me hide
as predators seek.

We’ve been friends
so long you see
My wardrobe
depicts our history.

I’ll rest a spell
until it’s time
to visit another
friend of mine.

© Linda Mitchell

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By Isabella, First Grader Concordia Lutheran School
(Posted by Mrs. Hoeft)

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by Teresa Robeson

Dear caterpillar in the kale,

please hide in some place new,

‘cause you and I won’t be amused

when I bite you in two.

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by Carol Varsalona

Posted at http://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2017/04/touched-by-nature.html

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by Carol Varsalona

Posted at http://beyondliteracylink.blogspot.com/2017/04/touched-by-nature.html

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Her solicitude

made my attitude

seem harsh

and rude

and crude.

Her compassion made

my unkindness fade.

The grump

displayed

was swayed:

her sweet offer to

share her donut drew

my smile;

it grew

and grew.

Rebekah Hoeft

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November 2015 Challenge (Rebecca M. Davis)

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November 2015 Challenge (Rebecca M. Davis)

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I’m the stage crew of summer
buzzing from flower to flower
without my nectar addiction
food scarcity is your affliction

© Linda Mitchell

*A clerihew is supposed to be funny…the plight of our pollinators and us all isn’t.

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In dark of stall
Comes a low-bellied
Word
Spoken to me
Through mouth moving to the
Rhythm of hay and grain.
Her head bobs as I
Look up;
Dewy beads cling to
Her whiskers,
Steam clouds with each exhale.
I blow on her muzzle,
She blows back.
With head cradled in that
Warm spot
Between shoulder and neck,
My fingers reach
To scratch withers' peak.
Her neck curves around me,
Holds me,
“I’m here”, she mumbles
Through my groanings,
And then she lets me go -
Like a mother who
Knows it is best
Not to hover
Over spilled milk and
Tumbleweeds;
“Go on now;
A run will do you good.”
And she lowers her nose
To take up the
Bit.

by Donna JT Smith

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For​ ​years​ ​you​ ​inhabited​ ​my​ ​shower

I​ ​watched​ ​your​ ​nimble​ ​long​ ​legs

stay​ ​away​ ​from​ ​the​ ​water.

I​ ​listened​ ​for​ ​your​ ​grumbles

about​ ​the​ ​amount​ ​of​ ​steam

or​ ​your​ ​warnings​ ​to​ ​your​ ​babies.

You​ ​remained​ ​silent.

The​ ​grandgirls​ ​weren’t​ ​thrilled

to​ ​share​ ​the​ ​shower​ ​with​ ​arachnids

but​ ​we​ ​managed

a​ ​peaceful​ ​coexistence.

I​ ​wonder

if​ ​you​ ​are​ ​still​ ​allowed

to​ ​take​ ​up​ ​residency.

©2017,​ ​jone​ ​rush​ ​macculloch

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Lithe limbs arch and bend
trimmed with a thousand blossoms,
ballerinas,
graced in frilly pink tutus,
chasséing on a spring breeze.

On a southern slope,
columns of bright daffodils
raise their trumpets high
and play a rousing fanfare
heralding winter’s retreat.

Catherine Flynn, © 2017

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By Bentley C., Grade , Silver Star Elementary

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Oh, Rain!
You fall so abundantly further east
but we treasure every hundredth of an inch
here on the western high plains.

Oh, Rain!
You have rescued the wheat crop,
not to mention the Russian Olives
in the windbreak on the north side of the house.

Oh, Rain!
You lift every spirit.
Are your ears burning? The inch that fell last night
is the topic of every conversation at the post office.

©Mary Lee Hahn, 2017
http://www.maryleehahn.com/2017/04/rain.html

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Honeybee,
the smell of sweet alyssum
slips through the open window
as your golden striped pantaloons|
gather the nectar and pollen
of late summer flowers.
Your buzz, buzz, buzz fills
the morning air.
I sip green tea flavored
with the honey from your hive.
I wonder how to bring an end
to the pesticides that threaten you.

© 2017, jone rush macculloch
https://deowriter.wordpress.com/2017/04/14/napowrimo-04142017-poetry-friday/

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Yellow stars spring

up across a universe
of green grass,
forming constellations
traced by buzzing bees
who stop to sip nectar
sweetened by sunshine
and soft summer breezes.
How can I bottle up
your golden promise
to savor on a winter's day?

Kay McGriff, 2017

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Your river-water silver frame reflects

Matisse dancers and Chagall angels.

Your salty, sharp edges, like me,

taste of compromise but never defeat.

Through your eyes, world-music sings.

Do you know you are the poetry

of my most articulate years?

Copyright 2017 Brenda Davis Harsham

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Miraculously white
from tip to top,
cushioning my step
with thick soft cotton,
and a whiff
of soapy spring rain.
Don’t tell the others,
but you are my favorite,
so I ask with desperation:
where is your mate?

©2017 Elizabeth Steinglass

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You had a baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and another baby
and then ME!

I was the end of the line,
your youngest,
the return of your waistline.

But you were my beginning,
my origin,
my reason for grinning.

50 years later I am indebted,
you've forgiven me
for all I have regretted.

©2017, Bridget Magee. All Rights Reserved.

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My favorite book to read
captivates me at full speed—
makes the world around recede.

© 2017 Cindy Breedlove

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Rocket-shouter of Knowledge
Alphabet laces looping
Reading-coasters of learning

poem by Jessica Bigi

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You're small and flat

or round as that

marble left out in the dirt.

You're small but strong,

you fix the wrong;

help more than ever you hurt.

Rebekah Hoeft

0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 o

My front flowerbed is overrun with pill bugs at the moment.  While trying to figure out how to get rid of them, I found out they are mostly harmless--though they might munch on the tiniest of seedlings--and actually are beneficial to the soil (think earthworms with legs).  More importantly, they thrive where many bugs do not and can consume toxic heavy metals and redeposit them as harmless additions to the soil.  I'm assuming my flower bed contains no toxins, but I'll leave them be—they're my new garden hero!

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During your serene nightly journey
to sooth the mischief left by your cousin,
you pause to visit my hackberry tree.

I understand that you can’t stay.
Other lives need your attention.
Yet on this night the moon herself
chose to nest in my hackberry tree,
beam me gifts of the moon mother,
bring me peace, awe, delight,
leave me the magical stuff of dreams.

© David L. Harrison

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by Margaret Gibson Simon

Like a forgotten Easter egg,
these iris eyes
hide.
Splashing purple peepers
looking for love.

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March 2016 Challenge (Amy Ludwig VanDerwater)

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March 2016 Challenge (Amy Ludwig VanDerwater)

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A ditty is a pretty
Itty bitty of a thing,
A little bit of spittle
On the tongue freed up to sing;
A ditty is much smaller
Than an opus or an ode,
It's less a busy highway
And more a winding road;
A simple little sing-song,
A leaf among the trees,
A sit-a-bit-and-hum-with-me
To carry on the breeze;
A butterfly knows ditties
As he flits and savors flowers,
And rain has its own brand of ditty
Known as April showers;
But best of all the ditties
Tucked in memory to keep,
Are songs we've sung together
Just before you go to sleep.

by Donna JT Smith

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Some may claim their love in stanzas,

Eighty-paged extravaganzas;

Bet their darlings won't remember

What was written come December.

My way differs oh so slightly:

Verses few that trip so lightly;

Little ditties stick so nicely,

State my cause just so precisely.

Rebekah Hoeft

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February 2016 Challenge (David L. Harrison)

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February 2016 Challenge (David L. Harrison)

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Joan of Arc

Had a glorious bark

And a mighty fighty bite

So she ended alight

Tabatha Yeatts

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Once, water covered

Mother Earth so wide, so deep

a dove could not land.

Now three in ten primary schools

cannot find water for doves.

© Linda Mitchell

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Citrus trees heavy

with fruit, adorn city streets

brings sparks of sunshine

to classic Roman landscape.

Nature contrasts history.

Kathy Mazurowski

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scape moth
in the flowering meadow
fern-like antennae
translucent wings, a gold collar
looks deceive; a bitter meal

© 2017, jone rush macculloch
https://deowriter.wordpress.com/2017/04/13/napowrimo-04132017/

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mud dauber
yellow and black features
nesting time
a solitary creature
you get a bad rap

© 2017, jone rush macculloch
https://deowriter.wordpress.com/2017/04/11/napowrimo-04112017/

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poppy seeds
prefer well-traveled soil
to sprout in --
feet shuffling across their
cradles rocks them awake

Tabatha Yeatts
* info from The Lost Art of Reading Nature's Signs

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Wind-teased trees waltzed and
Rustled in sweet commotion
So Old Moon, beguiled,
Sidled up, nestled in
Flashed a wide and cheesy grin

Karen Eastlund, 2017

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Dearest Friend,

I miss joyous, heartfelt greetings.

Your companionship, and nonjudgmental

acceptance of me - your unfailing love.

I miss our nightly snuggles.

Spying on birds and squirrels, and even

the incessant pleas – your insatiable appetite.

I miss the friendship you gave the kids.
Your younger, playful self, glimmering

through old age - your amazing intelligence.

Nothing could prepare me for that void.
The small things that remind me of you, or

the agony of a picture – your regalness.

There will never be another cat as loving, wonderful,

and smart as you – Zorba you’re missed.

Love always,

Your human Mom

© Maria Marshall

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Dear Ms. Zebra,

We are most sorry to hear,
Your outfit was not satisfactory.
Stripes are definitely in this year.

In the photo sent by the meerkat
You look quite sleek and lovely
and not at all fluffy or, fat.

Indeed, our store policy
is 100% satisfaction or,
money back—guaranteed.

Enclosed, please find
a store credit coupon
for our full animal print line.

Warmly,

Savannah Styles

© Linda Mitchell
photo: Ibrahim Najjar. Ibrahim Najjar - Sand River - Mara Kenya July 2015. N.p., July 2015. Web

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Dear Fellow Capybaras:

I write with apprehension –

As you must know, I’m just back from

The Rodent World Convention.

What a thrill to represent us!

I thought I’d be esteemed.

But, sadly, my reception was

Far different than I’d dreamed.

Of course, I was the largest guest

(There’s no doubt we’re well fed).

Yet, to my dismay, they booked me for

A twin (not king-sized) bed.

Then, the buffet! I have to say,

I found the spread quite poor.

All nuts and cheese, and not much else

To suit this herbivore.

Rat’s sewer-navigation speech

Was too advanced for me,

While Beaver’s talk on swimming

Was too rudimentary.

To cap it off, the small talk –

Like walking over nails!

Why must most rodents prattle on

About their glorious tails?

In short, I hate to stir the muck,

But I’m afraid I must.

Let’s skip all future gatherings.

Signed,

Yours in great disgust

by Jesse Anna Bornemann

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What does the heart know?

Fist sized muscle pumps persistently,

Pulsing blood through four chambers.

A cup of tea and a good book always help.

What does the heart know?

Arteries and veins carry the oxygenated

Blood to organs and the wastes away.

A glass of wine and laughs with friends always help.

by Kathleen Mazurowski

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What Does the Sower Know?

Grain remembers how to grow
from last it waved between these rows
as kernels, ripe -- glowing gold.

Each seed a story to be told.
Gathered in bushels – at market sold.
Or, culled and stored against the cold.

© Linda Mitchell

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What do leaves know?

in wintertime

be resolute,

sturdy plants start
as tender shoots,

and tiny flowers
bear fragrant fruits.

What do leaves know?

sun and shadow
combined produce

strength unseen
within the roots.

~Tabatha Yeatts

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What does the black bird know?
To wait: 'til thaw has come to stay,
let lion's roar of March fade 'way,
and winds more warm than chill allay.

What does the blackbird know?
To flash his wings, his pride display,
trill conk-la-ree from stalks that sway;
his advent is a hopeful day.

Rebekah Hoeft

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Big, ugly ogre

is not who I am inside

Fiona sees love

© 2017 Mindy Gars Dolandis

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He yells Boo! to me
I answer timeously
It’s my name you see.

by Angelique Pacheco

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they desire salt from our bodies
pollinators

daily

glee
shallow flowers

pollen
spree

gold collecting

green sweat
bees

©2017, jone rush macculloch

Agapostemon

they desire salt from our bodies
pollinators

green sweat
bees

shallow flowers

pollen
spree

collecting gold

daily

glee

©2017, jone rush macculloch
https://deowriter.wordpress.com/2017/04/10/napowrimo-04102017/

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cross orbweaver, a garden guest

spins a web of
silky
lace
hangs upside down
waits in
place
harbinger of
autumn’s

grace

© 2017, jone rush macculloch
https://deowriter.wordpress.com/2017/04/24/napowrimo-04242017-cross-orbweaver/

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Our ancient Greek philosopher,
stoic Zeno

never
saw

incredible

future
clocks

measuring time
with hands’
tic-tocs

© Linda Mitchell

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Springtime allergies clog your head,
make your nose drip,
make you
sneeze.
Bring more tissues!
Listen,
please:
snotty papers
will earn
"C"s.

© Diane Mayr, all rights reserved.

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Zeno Upon Being Surprised When Stealing Sister's Sweets

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Zeno Upon Being Surprised When Stealing Sister's Sweets

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My ninja skills need perfecting.

My sneak needs work:

my feet

stomp

when they should be

silent,

clomp

when stealthiness

should rule...

...WHOMP!

Ow.

Rebekah Hoeft

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October 2014 Challenge (J. Patrick Lewis)

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October 2014 Challenge (J. Patrick Lewis)

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(Sung to the tune of Somewhere Over The Rainbow)

Somewhere inside the pantry, way up high

There are boxes of Twinkies, Oreos and Moon Pies

Somewhere inside the freezer, Haagen Dazs

Frozen S’mores and bananas covered in chocolate sauce

My hubby and my kids indulge

While I fight battle of the bulge and hate it

I’d love to binge on pecan pie

But I’d put on an extra five before I ate it

So I’ll stick to eight hundred calories

Though I’m sick of the grapefruit, plain toast and cottage cheese

If other people don’t gain weight

Just looking at a chocolate cake

Then why oh why must I?

© 2017 Mindy Gars Dolandis

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I know now I will never see

a poem we named maple tree.

That tree grew here for eighty year.

It saw homes rise; paved roads appear.

We lingered in its summer shade,

the growing green where nests were made.

Its twirling seeds were nature’s toys,

the autumn’s crimson blazing joys.

While slumbering in snow and cold,

it showed no hint of the evil hold

of poisons placed in earth and air.

We knew only the beauty there.

The tree is down, memories depart.

It lies in pieces, like my heart.

© Linda Baie, a parody of "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer

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July 2014 Challenge (Tamera Will Wissinger)

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July 2014 Challenge (Tamera Will Wissinger)

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Moon Lake

Afternoon sun

Kisses serene water

Diamonds sparkle on the mirrored

Surface

© 2017 Mindy Gars Dolandis

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Rainy
Cadet Blue Sky
Thunder Beating on Drums
Lightning Marching Through the Clouds
Pouring…

by Madison, 3rd grade

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Aqua–

Delicously

wet, salty sea shanties,

dripping pocketfuls filled with past

waters . . .

© 2017 Michelle Kogan

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