wind weaves
milkweed fluff and rain
into lace
Copyright 2018 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Nearly Halloween,
time to see the unseen:
alligators in the milkweed,
cell bars in the pavement,
and everything spooky In-Between.
Copyright 2018 Brenda Davis Harsham Continue reading
Kindness is
planting milkweed seed
for a monarch butterfly
we’ve never met.
My daughter and I
dig a trench along
a wooded path,
where just a bit of light comes in.
It’s place where a caterpillar
might live its days in
emerald twilight,
munching its favorite food,
until it winds hope about itself.
Then it can be still,
listening to the wind
and the dog walkers,
the trail joggers
and the children finding pebbles
among the leaves and earth
in this green place of wishes.
Kindness is hoping it grows.
Kindness is carrying water in two hands,
sloshed onto colorful sneakers,
dribbled onto a rumpled trench.
Kindness is wishing all winter
for not-too-cold, not-too-dry,
for that seed to remember
the loving hands that patted
the soil into place.
Kindness is imagining the world
orange and yellow,
full of fluttering wings,
Without a care for oneself.
Copyright 2015 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: A few days ago, my daughter and I planted a hundred milkweed seeds along the edge of a wood. We watched for rain and imagined the seeds putting down tiny roots. We hope for a dozen milkweed plants come spring. We hope monarchs hear the milkweed song and come dancing along. Have you a kind act to share? Today’s Little Ditty has a challenge from editor Rebecca Davis to write “a poem about a specific act or moment of kindness. You can write it from any point of view– as a participant, a beneficiary, or as a witness. The more specific and vivid, the better!” Some of the poetry will be published by Today’s Little Ditty between now and Thanksgiving.
Pods
Look like
Green gators,
Snapping at air,
Hungry mouths open,
Toothy grin spilling silk:
Brownies harvest, spin and weave
Gossamer Fairy Court dresses.
Milkweed’s a Monarch butterfly house:
Holds eggs and feeds baby caterpillars.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Note: This poem is an etheree, a form that starts with one syllable on the first line and increases to 10, one syllable per line.
Goldenrod has grown long yellow fingers.
A crowd of eager mums are mid-laugh as
Hedgehogs nibble skunk cabbage.
Even white snakeroot,
Abloom at the wood’s edge,
Looks deceptively harmless,
But the deer leave it be.
Purple asters open wide, tiny but cheery.
Summer fairies line their beds with milkweed down,
Make quilts of hydrangea petals and
Dodge spiky, armoured chestnuts.
Dahlias bloom, large as dinner plates.
Happy Fall!
Note: The autumnal equinox is September 23, 2014, and this is the day summer changes to fall in the Northern Hemisphere, where I live in the USA. The earth is now tilting away from the sun and we will have shorter days and less warmth for 6 months.