A Winters Avian Ode

Snow falls heavily this Christmas night
wrapping the garden in a cloak of white,
tis cold while I spread boughs of evergreens
amongst the barren branches only to be seen
by the refugees from winter storms
providing warmth and a subtle sheen.

They need substance these nights of cold
shelter from the north wind that blows bold,
I shall protect you with all me might
avian creatures of the light
who give me hope of life
during these long winter nights.

Merry Merry

Light - Haiku

memories of night
whispering by candlelight,
stars are our witness











For more illumination please visit Haiku Heights

An Autumn Lament

I see you my wee friend
floating amongst curled leaves
upon autumns’ water,
your skin so dark
from the murkiness
of a leave filled pond.
Those leaves will remain
to protect you and your kin
over the coming winter
for the Almanac forecasts
a long and cold season.
I see the glint
in your blackened eyes
staring back at me,
pondering
your approaching hibernation
as I surely am.
This warm sunny day
reminds me of summer
while I watched you and your family
be yourselves
filling this heart with happiness
knowing I had created
a safe haven,
a haven for you and for me
where I could forget
the worries and strife of live
and relish in the moment.
Those moments are now
locked in my mind
only to resurface with smiles
when the deadness of winter
knocks on the door.
As I watch your eyes slowly close
while you fight the season,
remember this my wee friend
I shall unearth you in spring
tenderly wipe sand, mouldy leaves
off you and your kin
and we will once again
rejoice in the happiness
we gave each other.

Sleep well my wee friend.

Dona Nobis Pacem

Join us at BlogBlast for Peace. You'll be glad you did.

My backyard

Captures light,
iridescent prisms momentarily suspended in spider webs
crystalline raindrops race down the veins of night softened leaves
shadows twist and dance in the moist setting sun
Diamonds shattered on sunbeams splash on weathered lattice.

Sings with birdsong,
Cardinals in blazing red plumage, their imperious screech
call forth the lowly finch, all twitter and twitch
majestic Robins with puffed scarlet chests herald a new season
and mourning doves cooing and calming in gray solemn cloaks.

Shelters life,
black and red squirrels challenge each other for the most prized of the fruit of the walnut tree
hares hoard and jealously guard the seed from the birdfeeder
frogs, stalwart guardians of The Pond in their livery of green
night creatures wearing bandit masks brazenly stalk the composter.

Paints with colours,
Spring bulbs replenish the joy of life
Huecheras wave their frilly leaves in rainbow hues
Hostas, the silent green sentinels, all knowing, watch the children from the shade
Pennywort stretches and smiles in all her copper glory after a long winters sleep.

Ring sounds,
Church bells peal for a soul sent home
wolves howl from the marsh, the Hunters Moon
sirens wail, a new soul has arrived
lonely pups anxiously awaiting their companions return.

Enriches the gardener,
Ferns so delicate they forbid a human touch
hands creased in dirt, yet loving and true
leaves of maples in Autumn splendour
Earth so thick yet light filled with cast offs.

Comforts me,
in serenity providing the calm I seek
enlightens me to a path once walked
calling me home to a gentler day
in my garden, my Eden, my backyard.


A collaboration with my partner in rhyme Rogue.

For more scribblings this Sunday please visit Sunday Scribblings.

Sometimes I just shake my head...

Sometimes I just shake my head at the goings on at The Pond. Case in point, it was a sunny warm Saturday and after planting all the bulbs, way more than what was planned but after a colourless Winter I NEED colour in the garden. I digress. So I sit on my throne to ponder watching the frogs float about without a care in the world. Suddenly two of the larger ones hop out, sit and proceeded to stare at me. Hooo boy I thought here we go as I was wearing a red T-shirt. Anyone who has been around frogs will attest that wearing red is like waving a red flag at a bull. Strictly a no no. I froze waiting for the charge. Much to my relief, they separated, one heading north, the other heading south, towards the steps. Slowly they made their way to the first step and in unison hoped up onto the first step, one at either end.

Hhhmmmm, I thought, what are they up to. They hopped over to the planters filled with pots of mums. Aha! We’re going to play hide and seek are we. No sooner had I said it, then each in turn sits back craning their necks vertically much like a basketball player eyes the hoop, and up they go. They were a tad slow getting in but they made it. Slowly tip toeing their way thru the stems and flowers only to settle into the cool damp earth.

I related this tale to a few friends and yes the eyes did roll. “uh hunh Cheryl, yep, sure they did” “perhaps the lady doth ponder too much” and yada yada yada. I sighed and rolled my own eyes.
A few days later while outside I took the digi with me, just in case you see. One never knows does one. When I sat with tootsies up, yes you got it, out of The Pond pops one. I remember thinking in my best Elmer Fudd impression, sshhhhh be vary vary quiet, and quiet I was. Come hell or high water I was going to have proof! Slowly she hopped over stopping every few feet to see if I was watching and finally, yes ! finally she jumps as did I with digi clicking.
I was sooooo tempted to give her a wee upsie daisy with my hand but she had obviously done this before.

And yes even with thighs that meaty frog legs are a forbidden item on le menu.

As I wash windows

As I wash windows
my wind wonders why
we’re apart this day
of sunshine and warmth.

As I wash windows
I hear lovers laughter
on an early Autumn breeze
sharing their life together.

As I wash windows
birds swoop, wings intertwined
enveloping each others hearts
savouring the earths draft.

As I wash windows
I see my teary reflection
and scrub the pain clean
only hoping to shine another day.

The Green Man

The ancient oak stood strong
centred in the grove of saplings
her young, from her acorns
once seeds of a union so intense
it is still whispered on the wind.

Weathered bark peeled away
with each passing year leaving
her body, her mighty limbs
torn twigs, shredded leaves falling
before the season said change.

Axes struck sharp and hard
shattering the forest calm while
creatures paused in silent reverence
as The Green Man gathered acorns
sustaining their secret of eternal life.


My contribution to The Gooseberry Garden: Stories from Mythology, Culture and of life

While the Moon Looks Over My Shoulders

While the Moon
looks over my shoulders
I walk gently in darkness
well before dawn
eases us into a stressful life,
toddling along a well worn path
these feet glide
soundlessly over pavement
as my eyes smile
at dimming night lights
yet all alone on this trek
I pause to think,
wonder, ponder
how blessed we are
to share such love
this warm Autumn morn
and never will I be alone

Darn, Life is Cruel

After a day of chopping tomatoes, onion, carrots, peppers, garlic, beans, and whatever else I find to make an awesome tomato sauce; moving and cleaning out two over the top composters then spreading the black gold amongst the beds and watering in its life sustaining nutrients, I finally head off to the tub wanting to wash away the grime and soak in warm water relieving the aches. But, I pause a moment to surf channels seeking life and my fingers rest on an hour of Marchesa. O my gawd, is there no mercy!

I sit in filthy sweat pants, stained T shirt, and down right dirty fingers all the while focused on crystals, Swarovski no less; feathers plucked from the most exotic birds; tulle, yards and yards of tulle in wonderous colours and hand tatted lace all tenderly hand woven into magical finery. Hhmmm, perhaps I can shred the sweats and weave pebbles into the leggings. The T shirt could be dyed and the left over sequins from Halloween glued in a funky pattern. The bag of feathers (don’t ask why I have it) may be sewn on for texture. Could my Nikes replace the Louboutins? Even if I paint the soles red? I doubt it.

Darn, life is cruel.

Root in a Rut

Rut bound,
my roots wither
without water
tugging me, pulling me
I shake loose easily
scratching for relief
with smothering rain

Where is the rain
I beg you
to saturate my home
my soothing den
for without it
I shall perish

My once plump roots
now shriveled
rust in dry dirt
organics bare
to the elements
while I wait for rain …

Inspired by Magpie Tales

Throwing the bath water out

The landscape is parched, never have I’ve seen this in all these years. Plants cry out for water and I oblige, never minding the constant tick, tick, tick, of the water meter and the cost. My babies need substance and that’s all that matters. An hour is spent hosing the ground, but not before gentling forking the earth. This gives water a place to seep instead of running off to the paths. Paths do not need water, the treading of footsteps know their own way to wanderers.

First half is done, than I turn the hose to The Pond. My o my, they can get a bit cranky when water cascades onto them. Them, being resident froggies. The wee ones squeak and hop into sheltering shrubs. The larger ones sit with backs strong and heads craning to the sky. Little do they know I have a fun streak in me…

After the garden is soaked I turn to the patio where many have found refuge. Geeez guys it’s only water I think. One wee froglette sits startled so I gently tease him. “pppurrrah” he sings. Hhhmmm, has Frogue been spending time with the neighbours’ cats? Another nudge, and the same “pppurrrah”. So I continue, until he’s safe among his kin. Mind you I’m wondering where he learned his song but I won’t loose sleep over it.

When The Ponds water is again high I pick up the ole bird bath in need of a good rinsing. Months ago there were too many birds trying to sip from The Pond so I placed this ole blue clay bath amongst the shrubs. I had no idea the older critters would make it their home. Not sooner than 5 minutes after cleaning and filling with fresh water then two good croakers had found their home, again. They splashed about and sung their song of rain fore coming while I shrugged thinking come on guys you have a 2’ deep pond to frolic in but nooooo you just have to park your arses in the bird bath scaring every bird that drops by for a sip.

Seeking my throne after the watering I noticed one underneath. He sat steady never flinching when I moved. I finally rose, moved the chair and he hopped off. Well, well, well, it appeared he was doing his business. Not as impressive as a toads’ I once saw at my brothers. There we were 3 adults standing over a stone wondering “what’s daaatttttt?” We continued to stare intently while Mr. Toad did “his business”. Whoooooaaa, this observation was followed with an in depth discussion on how we as humans would feel relieving ourselves with a turd half as long as our body. The topics in the forest never surprise me. I digress.

For now the garden is refreshed, plants are plump with moisture and I have one froglette who appears nightly staring at me. If he smiles and wiggles his bum at me I’m outta here.

Waning Summer - Haiku

Hot suffocating wind
smothers foliages true colours
leaving crisp brunt stems

High ear piercing drones
tree frogs tell the temperature
on this sultry night

Sun lowers herself
creating shadows thru leaves
bowing in this drought

Breeze blown crickets songs
lull the listener into sleep
while blankets are tossed

Hummers drink heartedly
fortifying for their journey
to warmer climates

Squirrels run along roofs
walnuts overfill their mouths
food for months ahead

Snowball hydrangeas
faint lacking life giving moisture
dried blossoms fill vases

Chilled Chardonnay warms
quickly this late summers eve
ice bucket empties…..

The Path of Ab

Footsteps are light
amongst his cathedral of pines
as boughs stretch skyward
then bow to the creator
of beaming sunlight filtered
into subdued rays amid the ferns
lighting Abs path with reverence
thru his forest created with love…

Willa

Torrance I never understood
how your beauty shone thru the
watercolours of your life,
until late nights of hot tea
and writing Haiku listening to CBC
O how I miss those,
and your collages of pastels
musical notes and laces intertwined
brought songs to hearts,
though your vibrancy has been lost
upon the wind except for
those who knew you Willa,
you remain as Torrance
strong, steadfast in your life
a true lyrical woman,
and as Willa, you will be forever
drifting upon the Tay, your home
and I shall always remember you ….

A Mouse In The House

It began one Saturday morn whilst checking out the nursery at Home Hardware. I know, I know but they had good deals on perennials. Any hoo, I wandered along and heard a squeak, then an O My! as this elder grabbed my arm, “did you not see that!” she gasped. “ummm I heard a squeak but thought it was the doors” “noooo! The mouse! You almost stepped on it!” I shook me head wondering how many mice that lady of vintage had seen and why was she so excited about it, and toddled on.

That night I dreamt, during a deep sleep the kind I cherish. The focus of my dream was white, with black whiskers, scurrying about, finally making his way outside, to The Pond where he met Fog and Sog. Actually Twinkle and Soggie Bottom introduced him to Fog and Sog, and all got along famously. They named him Merlin, that wee mouse. More on him later as I’ve been told he has magic in his soul.

Days passed with few signs springing up of a creature in me house. You know the signs, black sesame seeds, though not actual seeds. I sighed, not again, it’s July for heavens sake and it should be outside romping thru fields of clover. Alas, wasn’t to be. Midnight munching in one cupboard, and there goes the cornmeal I thought; little forget me nots on the chesterfield making me not wanting to stretch out on it, black dots well not so dots but rectangular droppings in the kitchen sink. The signs increased as did my worry lines.

The worst was entering the home, my refuge one Friday after a hectic work week. I just needed to zone and forget but that was not to be, my gawd the noise coming from the stove. It sounded metal on metal. On and on it went and after an hour I finally lifted the stove and out ran a wee critter, across the floor and under the pantry door. I grabbed boxes and wood stuffing the door bottom. and with much glee shouted to no one but him "I caught you me furry fiend!" He had feasted on dried rottitini so was well fed, enough for a day or two. All weekend long I minded the Catch Em Live traps and not a bite. Maybe he had found his way out I thought, wishful thinking because I’m such a woose at these things. I’ve cared for folks passing on, holding them to their last breath, tended to the wounded but out and out killing is just not on my do to list.

A few days later and being an early riser I sat in another room sipping me tassie eating the peanut butter slathered toast. Reading up on the overnight news I heard this awful noise from the kitchen sink and so rose and peeked around the corner. Lo and behold He was peeking back at me from behind the canisters, not all of him just his ears and they were huge. I tip toed into the kitchen and poof he scattered across the counter onto the stove and dove in. O lord I thought. He’s gone so I returned to my den. Not 60 seconds had passed and there he was again at the peanut butter covered knife in the sink. Yikes! The sound wasn’t comforting at all. This game of hide and seek went on for awhile. I even found my self hiding behind the corner waiting for a glimpse but this was no ordinary mouse. As soon as I appeared he disappeared. Regaling me work cohorts with the mighty mouse tale of playing hide and seek at 5 am, their comments weren’t comforting “ya know Cheryl, I wouldn’t stay in a house where a mouse knows how to use a knife”. Thanks lads, love you too.

Alrighty then, the live traps didn’t work. The wee bugger went in, ate and backed out. I won’t mention the neighbours watching me one early Sunday morn walking to the river with trap in rubber gloved hand, only to open and shake with nothing falling out. Sighhhhhh, I was beat as the furniture. I don’t want too but He just won’t leave so out came the bucket.

A huge bucket, a good 2’ tall, filled a quarter of the way with water. I’m not looking forward to this. Then as the lads instructed string was tied across the width with one peace hanging down and at the end a dollop of peanut butter. O and don’t forget the piece of wood to be used as a ramp for the wee fella to scamper up on. I was already sick. So everything is set and I toddled off to bed. Next morning I entered the kitchen and no string. Hhmmm, maybe that did it thinking as I peered into the bucket. Arrrghhhhhhh! It was empty and every bit of string clean clean and lying beside it. Okies, this mouse is way too smart to die. He just doesn’t deserve it. Need I say the lads at work had a field day with the tail, errr tale. Going on and on how he sat on the edge, pulling the string end over end til he had licked it, then dropping it all on the floor.

Off to Home Hardware I go ‘cause I’m fed up. Sorry fella but I’ve had it waking to a filthy counter, poops on the chesterfield, tiny feets across mine and late night scurryings and worst of all having to wear shoes in my own home! I’m done and want my home back ! The young lad in the “kill em before they kill you” department was kind. Did you know they actually make a trap with a tranquilizer? Yep, the critter walks in, eats it and bam is knocked out so you can take it to its next home, groggy but alive. I gave him such a look that he almost fainted and finally walked out without the Snapper but the Catchmaster. What’s another 18 bucks if it catches him alive, geeez I’ve spend that much in peanut butter! Made of tin, it’s supposed to find its way in to the food, and a trap door closes. Aha, I said, this I can work with! Set out that night filled with cheese, damn good cheese mind you, a fine Havarti, and peanut butter I toddled off.

Waking the next morning I apprehensively walked into the kitchen, flicked on the light and checked out the Catchmaster, even before I made me tassie, that’s how anxious I was! Lo and behold, there was a little creature with big brown eyes staring back at me. Ha! I finally caught you me furry *&##^% friend! Buckle up laddie we’re going for a drive. Looking at him I must say he had such a shiny coat no doubt because of the great dollops of peanut butter over the weeks. Still in pajamas I carried the trap to the car putting him in the trunk for safe keeping, of course. Off to the river we went. As I opened his confines I bade him to give my regards to Vicky and Vinnie, two voles I previously released there. As he scampered thru fields of grass and clover I knew he was home, not mine but his, and I smiled.

A Summers Heart Song

Hungry squeaks from baby Blue jays
safe amongst shrubs;
Plops from frogs cooling off
in the cool ponds water;
Cheerful chortles of Robins
teaching their young to sing;
Snapping of bedding on the line
drying in the warm wind;
Soft nattering of Finches
as they glide thru the trees;
Delightful breeze rustling leaves
as they brush the roof;
Gentle cooing from Doves on high
expressing their love for each other;
Meooorrrrr of a neighbours cat
from a well aimed walnut ;)

Ahhhh, my heart sings this perfect summers day
while Jerryson ponders along side me…

Free

Free of corporate garb
the skies call to me
its gentle cool breeze
blows over me
wiping away the day
releasing my flesh
from scents of toll
only to bask in fresh air
while the wind
wraps soft tendrils
of my hair
over my face
now brushed aside
and forgotten
for the time being….

Ode to the Acacia

Acacia blossoms
fall silently onto earth
scent lost on the breeze

Joyous sounds of bumbles
buzzing amongst tree tops
delights the listener

Fragrance of honey
inhaling drifts on the wind
enlivens the senses

Beyond a doubt my favourite tree is the Acacia or Black Locust but I prefer Acacia. It grows well here surviving summers’ heat and drought as well as the bitter cold of winter, never failing to spring forth. I know of groves nearing 200 years old standing strong, guarding their homes. Easily reaching 100’ in height they grow straight with a hardiness of soul that rivals the mighty oak. It’s the last to leaf in spring and last to loose those fragile fronds in autumn.

Shall we discuss their blossoms? O my heaven, I yearn for their fragrance constantly watching my own for a hint of openness. Similar to wisteria, their huge clusters cascade in June, enveloping the neighbourhood with their sweet fragrance. The creamy coloured blossoms are nectar to bumbles much like a fine Aussie chardonnay pour moi. The bumbles swarm about creating a delightful drone of busy wee bees. Could life be richer?

I love its growth, almost limbless til they reach heaven and then their branches spread overhead creating a bower, sheltering earth below. That is its goal, its life, to give joy to others while asking nothing in return, just to be let be and grow on. Acacia is strength and beautiful in its own way, and always will be. If I had been blessed with a daughter she would be Acacia and I would forever smile knowing she was named so true.

In you...

In you I feel a gentle summers breeze
caressing my neck cooling me down,
In you I watch Chickadees bathe in cool water
before feeding each other and flying off,
In you I see the brilliant colours of a Blue Jay
standing proud while he sips,
In you I hear warbling of Sparrows
as lovers often sing while they court,
In you I see a Robin feeding her daughter
plump worms from me trowel travels,
In you I take delight when Fog and Sog
hop into The Pond for a cool swim,
In you I feel the summers sun
warming myself as I smile in her glory,
In you I relish Ella and Her Fella’s
singing thru the garden on this gentle night,
In you I feel love…

Fog and Sog

As a Canadian tis a well known fact that we love to talk about weather but I won’t. Okies just for a minute but it’s a good lead in to the story. Last night I had the furnace on, not a fun thing to do towards the end of May but I had a chill. I held out as long as I could but the dampness and cold creaked me bones.

This morn I awoke to fog and drizzle. Now we know there has to be warmth with fog, that harbinger of heat and humidity so the day began as foggy and soggy. Stay with me.

With tea in hand I stepped outside to check The Pond. I tend to do that in the morn if only to see if new residents have arrived. To my surprise there was one! Woooooo hoooooo I shouted. There he was, a most bootiful green frog sitting comfortably on the far side. I wondered if this was the same one who flipped me a finger ( do frogs have fingers? ) as I strode off to work Tuesday morn after a long weekend and not seeing one. His flip was more of a “Hasta Vista baby, have fun at work while I frolic in The Pond”. I hate that kind of flip.

Brushing aside a few branches I spied another one ! Woooooo hoooooooo, two at the same time ! I was tickled pink or is that freckled, hhmmm.

These two have sat on opposite sides for most of the day. Sitting proudly and staring at each other. Though when one watches them long enough you pick up a subtle fluttering of the eyelids since they don’t have eyelashes. After a few hours I noticed the larger one had hopped over to the far side sitting close but not touching the smaller one. Could this be the beginning of froglettes? She may be playing hard to get but knowing male frogs he will succeed in making her his own.

In their honour and from this day forward they shall be named Fog and Sog. How will I know the difference? I won’t but they will. ;)

Solitude - Haiku

Robins, Warblers, Finches
in perfect yet subtle harmony,
is my solitude

Breeze blown lotuses
floating over crystal water,
is my solitude

Spent Apple blossoms
natures confetti, drifting,
is my solitude

Tired feet resting
while I ponder by The Pond,
is my solitude

Serenity I sought
now found in my quiet garden,
is my solitude

Master Oliver Schroeder
bells, chimes, sweet singing fiddles,
is my solitude

Recreating Eden
in my own quiet humble world,
is my solitude…


Solitude may also be found at Haiku Heights.blogspot.com since the net is cranky

Retirees and Their Mowers

What is it with retirees and mowers? I ask ya. Why do they insist mowing on Fridays? Is it because they need to quantify their existence to the neighbourhood? Yes, we know you’ve worked hard for it but come on, your neighbours don’t have that luxury of waking up and pondering, hhmmm, what to do, what to do. Yes, Gord, Ross, Marylynn, ole man MacDonald, we know you’re alive but really! Couldn’t you have done that during the week when the rest of us are working?

My office is beside the maintenance shop and well, we all know how boys and their toys can be. Give it! More grind! Do it again! Ye gads, get it out of your system lads as I’m sure the Mrs won’t put up with the noise when you get home. I need peace when I get home. I want to hear the finches in the garden, the soft breeze blowing the orbs along in the pond, and quietness but alas that is not to be.

So it’s late Friday afternoon and my sleepy neighbourhood comes to life with lawn mowers, chain saws, whipper snippers, you name it and if it runs, you bet it will. Gawd almighty, I need peace and quiet after 12 days of work, but nooooooooo. Come 4pm the mowers begin like the Nascar race. Okies, I don't watch cars driving around and around and around but I figure they are all gassed and ready to roar. Don’t they appreciate what it was like when they put in a full week and just wanted to unwind? Me thinks not. Heavens, have mercy on me. The grass will wait being sacrificed to the perfect level. Mind you mines a tad long but it will wait as shall I, and it won’t be on a Friday afternoon.

After the symphony of John Deeres and Lawn Boys today, I shall pour a goblet of liquid gold and ponder starting up me own mower at 7 am Saturday in reverance for those evening diehards. And for their honour guard I just may remove the muffler!

Morning in May

Misty May morning
rivers current creates soothing sounds
as I inhale its beauty

Ahhh, Earth Day

Leaves of Bloodroot
slowly unfurl, their blooms
of white happily shine in the sun

Scillias of azure blue abuzz
teased open by bees
thirsty, longing for nourishment

Nails short and ragged
clogged with rich black earth,
a gardeners’ badge of honour

Robins follow freshly turned soil
listening, watching for a sign
of twisting movement

Pale green leaves shoot upward
buds of Daffies, tender to the touch
patiently wait for a cloudy day

Juncos perform two steps forward
one step back, digging
for winters leftover seeds

Spent Hydrangea heads
crumpled, cast aside
cover the ground with confetti

Over wintered compost
natures black gold, dug out
to replenish tired beds

Muddy shoes lined up
on the garden bench to dry
soles skyward, warming in the sun

While the tired and dirty gardener
eases back onto her throne
relaxed with face to the sun, she smiles

Robins sing vespers

Robins sing vespers
giving thanks for warm earth
bountiful with food and substance
after a nourishing spring rain.

Mosaic orbs in the garden pulsate
in a kaleidoscope of colours
as the sun sets on another day,
while Robins sing vespers.

Crumpled leaves blow
twirling in the cool breeze
only to set sail on The Ponds surface,
while Robins sing vespers.

Quarter moon wrapped
in the Da Vinci glow
as it has for thousands of years,
while Robins sing vespers.

Spring has arrived this gentle eve
slowly, assuredly, at her own pace
life is refreshed, renewed,
and Robins sing vespers…

Parchment

For more reams of paper visit Theme Thursday.

Shamrocks and Violets

A mismatch
in the colour wheel
of a perfect spring garden
yet together
they create pleasing harmony
in our dreary, dismal landscape








Penned for the colour prompt at Magpie Tales.
Slainte!

Orchid of The Night

Orchid of the night
Illuminates the darkness
With her quiet pallet

I spied this beauty sitting alone on a rack. Well not quite alone but sitting amongst the pinks, reds and purples of her family. Her serene beauty stood out from the clash of vibrancy surrounding her. The softest hues of celery green with a dash of smokey rose and crème on her lower petals made me stop and sigh. There was no discussion and so she came home with me.




Officially she belongs to the Phalaenopsis family or Moth Orchid. When I look at her I see a Luna Moth, so soft and gentle with luminescent wings. The particular clan is unknown but that’s fine by me because she has joined my clan and is adored sitting in my nest brightening the day as well as the night with her glow.

Operatic Tomes

Forgotten, worn, loved and torn
operatic tomes rest upon the maestros shelf
breathlessly waiting for their return performance,

and aged voices will be heard once more


For more wonderful books please visit Theme Thursday.

Point of Salvation

The only point of salvation
harkens to those lost at sea
guiding their way safely home
casting aside natures nightlights
sure to lead wanting sailors astray
onto the soul shredding rocks
begging for sacrifices along the shore.


More points of light may be found here on Theme Thursday.

To all The Lovers

I rise to a colourful dawn,
her cloak, ribbons of pastels
as on my pallet of watercolours,
cause me to pause and gaze
at this wondrous gift
while pondering my beloved
smiling at this glowing view
knowing we share the same
over the high and lowlands,
yet still I yearn to walk
with you, by moon glow
strolling into the misty dawn
on stardust, that lights our path

Come dance with me...

our reflections in the lake
shimmer silently beneath us
as we step lightly
gliding, laughing, twirling
over the crashing waves,
now settle into ripples
from our strength
calming the stormy waters
into a languid pool
serene and at peace.

Come dance with me…

My dear friend introduced me to a beautiful song When You Taught Me How To Dance. Thank you Sean

Ode to The Wolf Moon

From the nearby woods
I listen to my clan howling
over the river, to the family
seeking shelter as morning nears
safe and protected from the day.

The run with kin over the snow
has ended, they leave me
exhausted and shivering,
their fur unknown to this body,
and I look to the east.

Thru naked and gnarled limbs
of oak, walnut and maple
your morning rays shine
stroking warmth into my flesh
chilled from a long January night.

I welcome you this morn
O wolf moon shining full
upon this icy landscape
barren, void of colour and life
until your rays penetrate my soul.

Warm me, I beg you
wrap your rays around my body
infuse my being with your heat
while I reveal in your life source
once again becoming myself.

Celestial - Haiku

Mother Natures’ night lights
illuminates the path of life
on my journey thru the woods

Walk with me while I
give to you celestial wonders
that beat within my heart

Glimmering star fields
provides welcoming
lanterns to the traveler

Dearest of my heart
look for me shining upon you
brightening your soul

This frosty wintery night
one’s breath whispers to the stars
keep him safe with your glow


Celestial offerings for Haiku Heights

Do you see...

Do you see the dance of snow flakes
sheltered and safe in the frosted sacred glen
sparkling amongst snow laden boughs
curtsying and bowing to each other
whilst laughing throughout the night.

Do you see the wee wild creatures
and their dance steps of frivolity and finesse
illuminated by the waning moon so soft and fine
keeping in wondrous tune with the snow flakes
as they laugh throughout the night.

Do you see this pondering soul
answering the call of shimmering snow flakes
she light of heart and step and warm with delight
surrendering as she happens upon this magical site
at peace she will laugh throughout the night.

New Years Blessing

I was somewhat chuffed when I read a comment on Charity – Haiku from Elise, The Everyday Goddess. Her Goddess Award is very heartfelt. Thank you Elise.

This left me to ponder. While I’m no Goddess except to the creatures in The Pond who address me as Princess, well except for Fang though his crankiness is inbred, it says something about the blogging community. So many folks interconnecting and writing about their lives, their gardens, their art, thoughts and dreams, but mostly their worlds and how a few words from the heart affect people.

Bloggers have warm souls allowing us to share good and bad times and will even pop by every once and awhile during a dry spell if only to say “Hellloooo ????” That usually brings a darno, I’ve neglected Ponderings and my friends. Well, not so much neglected but life gets in the way at times, arrghhh.

I’ve the pleasure to contribute to Magpie Tales and Haiku Heights and I must say the welcoming at both sites is unique, encouraging and filled with souls who write for the sake of expression. Thank you for providing the prompts and allowing us these forums. Not only to participate, but to read and join other like minded folks. Tis always a treat delving into another’s thoughts. ;)

To Speedy and Eric at Ruminations, you’ve both been with me the longest and I cherish your friendship. Truly. To Rogue, well ya know, merci dere hey. To everyone else spread over this earth from Aussieland, to India, to Europe, the UK and North America, thank you for your friendship.

Before I get sappy and I can, o indeedie I can, I wish everyone, participants, hosts, followers and commenter’s the healthiest and safest New Year. May it be filled with dreams come true and happiness that knows no bounds. I look forward to reading your ponderings one and all.


Cheryl
Goddess of The Pond