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May 14, 2015

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Spring Rain Crescendo

Raindrops
Rain plops
Plink, plink
Pitter, patter
Crack of thunder
Howling gusts
Shake the windows
Rain drums sideways
Young plants flatten
Trees bend sideways
Dry earth drinks deep
Lemon tulip petals scatter
Blacktop steams and hisses
Pollen washes into soil
Puddles swell to lakes
Wind softens, sighs
Drip, drop, stop
Greens deepen
Flowers glisten
Birds sing
I listen

Note: We are having a dry spring, and we need rain. If we don’t get rain soon, we might be dancing for it like the children in the fairy tale, Rain Dance. This poem is a prayer for rain and a celebration of Poetry Friday, where poetry falls like rain on a dry earth. The host and poetry gathering point this week is Random Noodling. The hostess, Diane, offers a quote by Mark Twain and a poem about sanity. Worth a look! Write a poem for kids or quote one by another, and you can join the fun by visiting and contributing your link. Here is a bonus poem by a favorite author:

April Rain

Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk
The rain makes running pools in the gutter
The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night
And I love the rain.

— Langston Hughes

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

May 4, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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34 Comments

Squill Overkill

Too
much Squill
is overkill.
The smallest spill —
tiny blooms of white,
lightly striped with blue starlight —
brings a taste of spring to excite.
Yet my neighbor’s grown a sapphire glade
that tempts me into yearning for cool shade.

Too much Squill or just enough?
Mother Nature struts her stuff.

Note: The first flowers are Puschkinia scilloides var. libanotica or Striped Squill. I wrote a previous poem to the blue Squill. I hope the spring is singing to you, as it’s singing to me. Have a wonderful week!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 19, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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29 Comments

Lion Alone

winter scarred, care worn
gazing at eternity
lion without pride

remembers school vacation
three playful cubs squabbling

Note: Hurray for vacation week! Tomorrow is the Boston marathon. Hope you all have a great week. Be healthy and be safe! Warmly, Brenda

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 16, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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42 Comments

Yellowest Green

The yellowest green
Is the daffodil,
One day away from
Letting yellow spill.

What makes the flower
Pick that day to bloom?
The sun’s the power!
And it makes bees zoom.

Note: My van is mobile, my son’s foot is mending and my novel is submitted. Fingers crossed. Maybe my eyes, too. This poem is to celebrate Poetry Friday, and the warm breeze it’s brought into my life, perfumed with rich words. This week is hosted by Robyn Hood Black, thank you!!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 9, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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60 Comments

Spring a ling!

Spring a ling!
Hear spring sing;
Flower bells ring:
Spring a ling!
Spring a ling!
Spring a ling!

Note: We’re hearing it! A few days above 50 and a vast flood of snow melt is all the encouragement these little hardy crocuses needed. My lucky neighbor already has blooms. I hope you’re enjoying National Poetry Month. I am participating in Poetry Friday, organized by Kidlitosphere Central and hosted this week by Laura Purdie Salas at Writing the World for Kids. She has lots of great tips for reading poetry to kids.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 4, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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49 Comments

Catkin Cold

Catkin young,
Soft, sage and fuzzy,
Catkin brave,
No leaves are open,
Catkin cold,
Snow freezes toes.
Catkin grow!
Early sign of spring.
Catkin open:
When ripe but soon!
Catkin bloom:
Bring back the birds.

Note: Fingers crossed for spring here. Someday soon, we’ll have blooms here, and lots of spring-green shoots! For another catkin poem, see Catkin Fuzzy.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

April 2, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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33 Comments

Ghost Leaf

Oak leaf rimed,
Bleached winter white,
Stark skeleton aglow.

A bit of starlight,
Its light grown white,
A transient in the universe,

The writing is plain:
An early calling card
Of Lady Spring’s visit.

Perhaps I’ll pour the tea,
Remembering heat,
Wishing for sunlight.

Note: I’ll lift my teacup in a toast to Lady Spring, whose velvety green cloak will swirl around us any day. And I’ll dedicate this ghostly post to Poetry Friday, this week hosted by a wonderful children’s poet, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, at her blog, The Poem Farm. It’s National Poetry Month, and the kidlitosphere is lit by the radiance of many special events, some listed by Jama, the Poetry Potentate. If you like poetry, you can dine until sated this month!

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 30, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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40 Comments

Sycamore at Sunset

Winter light dwindles to a pale sunset.
Sycamore bark peels in patches.
Ever on sentry duty, an eye on the horizon,
Glowing like a desert landscape,
The silent tree watches for
Spring, as winter melts away.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 26, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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41 Comments

Diamond Snow Tanka

pink morning light
gilds young trees, knee-deep in ice
thousands of diamonds

break light into rainbows,
blinding me to spring

Note: Tanka is defined in Oak Leak Tanka. This photograph was taken this spring. You can compare it to a picture taken last winter of the same trees in Five Brothers Tanka. This poem is in honor of Poetry Friday, hosted this week by Check it Out.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 19, 2015

Posted under

Holiday, Photography, Poetry

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55 Comments

Spring Magic

And above all, watch with glittering eyes
the whole world around you because the greatest secrets
are always hidden in the most unlikely places.
Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.

— Roald Dahl (Minpins, 1991)

Drip,
Rain
Drop
Plops,
Spring will come
With black mud, bees
And crocuses beneath trees.
Baby robins will scatter shells.
Fairies will chant vernal spells.
Birds will sing madrigals at dawn
To wood violets blooming on the lawn.
Foxglove’s speckled trumpets will play
With snowdrops and magnolias in May.

snowdrops

Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true.

— Lucy Maud Montgomery (from Spring Song)

Note: My poem, Spring Magic is a concrete poem, taking the shape of a drooping tulip or possibly a lily of the valley bell as suggested by Matt Forrest Ersenwine. Thanks, Matt! Happy Spring! This post is an ode to Spring in honor of the Vernal Equinox which is at 6:45 p.m. here on March 20, 2015. And a happy coincidence, also in honor of Poetry Friday, hosted this week by Catherine Flynn at Reading to the Core who shared a wonderful original poem for World Folk Tales and Fables Week. I hope you have time to visit her. The photographs were all taken last spring — this year the ground is covered by a knee-deep sea of receding white ice.

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 18, 2015

Posted under

Photography

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16 Comments

Wordless Song of Seasons

Posted by

Brenda Davis Harsham

Posted on

March 13, 2015

Posted under

Photography, Poetry

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49 Comments

Sounds of Spring

Thwomp-Boom, ice dams fall.
Birds sing as sunshine strengthens.
Drip, drip, icicle lengthens;
When will the snow go?

Canada Geese waddle into traffic,
Honking: Where’s the ground?
Where can food be found?
When will the snow go?

Cars honk back; engines roar.
Traffic stalls and goggles at geese.
Is it spring despite me wearing fleece?
When will the snow go?

This Poetry Friday is wrangled by Author Amok. May your inner child be joyful this weekend!

Note: I was driving back from the pediatrician with my son, who clonked his head on the ice Sunday night (he has a mild concussion and will be fine), when two prosperous-looking Canada Geese waddled right across the busy road. The sight of them in the road is unusual, they generally congregate on grassy lawns. It reminded me that the wild things are even more inconvenienced by the remaining mountains of snow than I am. And that spring is nearly here!! Woo-hoo! The geese have returned! Given I was driving, I didn’t get a picture of them.