Calendar Of Time
Petals unfold while delicate drops
of morning dew spill tears
on green sparkling earth.
A cool breeze floats across
Spring gardens. Brilliant colors
Bow soft, anxious heads and
Kneel before rising sunlight,
An Almanac of their true love
For Mother Earth, knowing well
They will last but a short time.
Summer will softly fade away and
Yield to Autumn’s blazing colors.
Winter will shower them in white.
Ermine jewels will hang from dark
stems, bending, breaking, gone.
But, OH! A time to sleep and dream.
The gentle voice of nature speaks.
“Awaken! Rise! It is your time now.
The soft earth longs for your beauty.
It is time. It is Spring again.”
Mabel I. Massie
A cloud rose from her hill at morning sunrise.
I watched her as she swiftly left her bed.
Her leaving seemed to be at someone’s bidding.
When next I looked I saw the Sun’s red head.
Arise, brush the strings from your face
Open the cocoons of your sight,
And soak in the brilliance of another day.
Breathe in the aroma of dew-kissed roses,
That lure bees to morning nectar
As the rising mist meets the sun.
Tune each drum to hear joyous melodies
Of song birds in flowering trees,
And distant plowing of the fields.
Taste the sweetness of sourwood honey
From cutout combs of light array,
On homemade bread that smells of home.
Walk in woods where dogwood and red-buds
Line edges of leaf strewn paths
And meditate with GOD.
From “Poems and Other Writings”
Pussy willow catkins
burst with pollen,
crocuses splay tired petals
to the sun,
but demure daffodils—
buds folded tightly
withholding fragrance and flower—
hesitate too long.
I scour the landscape
for that first golden trumpet
heralding, “Spring has finally arrived.”