
You should sing the blues,
but your music’s too sweet,
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You should sing the blues,
but your music’s too sweet,
Continue reading

Creeks sing to wake the frogs.
New leaves whisper, waking the wind.
Old, crooked trees have their own
music, a quiet unfurling of
wandering woodland notes.
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American lady
butterflies
charm and
delight
every child.
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Waves of heat bake golden sand,
splashed by frothy waves. Gulls
and sandpipers dot grassy dunes.
A long, tall drink comes to hand.
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Used with Permission of Resa Swork

softer
snowfall
in April
a winged angelic and feathery stillness
heralds divine music from above
the icy confection
reminds of protection
brings a sense of peace
contemplating movement
making art turn into magic while
overhead fly Canada geese
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading

Purple party hats prickle
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Fresco at University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis Used by Permission of Laura Purdie Salas
The fairy tale, the prosaic,
the absurd and the divine,
find their way into myth,
story, art and rhyme.

Mudiferous,
squelching ramble
beneath bare branches
and yearning buds
yields a vast harvest
in my wintry soul
of spring faith. Continue reading

My nose misses roses
through long winter days,
but Trader Joe’s knows.
There, summers scents
come in cellophane.
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Peace is like sunlight:
I yearn toward it.
I can’t hold it in my hand.
I want it most
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I enjoy every
yellow thing
that blooms in
early spring.
Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This ditty is in honor of writing and rewriting manuscripts galore. Plus, today, I won an award-winning book thanks to a cat named Maggie. Continue reading