Tag Archives: Nature

Morning At The Vineyard

It’s morning at the vineyard

And the weather’s looking fine!

We sing hurrah and pick syrah

By bunches off the vine.

There’s Malbec for our jelly

And cabernet for wine,

Filling bucket after bucket

With pickers numbering nine.

My girl may have partaken

Of a bottle from last year.

The leaves stay green and limber

Though its fruit will disappear.

With truck beds full and spirits high

We loose a mirthful cheer!

Now we’re on the highway home

With the pickers we hold dear.

Tomorrow we’ll de-stem the lot

And barrel it to wait

Until next year’s excursion

Or ‘til 2028.

It’s a family tradition

So we all participate,

Bottling mornings in the vineyard,

Packing memories by the crate.

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October

Giant peaks of scarlet leaves

Mixed with auburn, amber, gold

Summoning the child within

To leap in, safe from autumns’s cold.

Into the fallen leaves in hues

Of flame and fortune children fly

And gentle wind, October’s whisper,

Seays so gently from the sky.

Hours after laughter leaves

The leaves themselves, scattered, wild,

Echo of the past adventures

Of literal and inner child.

Pumpkin pie and jokes await

‘Til snow fulfills poor Autumn’s fate.

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Five Most Powerful Natural Disasters (Number Two Will Shock You)

He had wavy golden locks

That fell upon her shoulders

As he held her close with one arm

While the other parried boulders.

Behind them, a volcano

Spat hellfire in the air

But the hottest thing nearby was still

His chest, sweaty and bare.

An earthquake shook the lovers.

A tsunami got them wet,

But nature had no fury

To match their passion yet.

Then a tiny spider crawled

Across her silky bosom

Which quickly quelled the ardor

Of the trashy novel twosome.

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Our Turn

At wee early hour on the hills by my home

I’d knock on your door, heart a burning

To dance there with you

And the golden morning dew,

Giving thanks that the world keeps a turning.

When sun finally breaks, gold and heavy that morn

And we stride proud below sky a burning

I’ll feel like a king

With the first bud of the Spring

And give thanks that the world keeps a turning.

The sun at it’s apex, a blanket beneath,

And two lovers for picnic are yearning.

Her hair smooth as silk

They drink honey and the milk

In the garden of Earth, still a turning.

As years turn to lifetimes and bodies to dust

The couple does not cease their learning.

They lie, cold and still

And the two become the hill,

Still part of the world ever turning.

Remember the sunshine. Remember the lifetime.

Remember the sweet butter churning.

Remember the dawn

For someday the Earth will yawn

And together we’ll rest from the turning.

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Buck Shot, But Not Well

Sometimes when it’s peaceful

In the evening by the stream

I like to lie beside the bank

And oh-so-gently dream

That as the humans hunt the deer

The deer hunt us the same,

But humans never notice this

‘Cause deer have lousy aim.

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“Andrew’s Shirtless Chest Glistened Under The Golden Sun. He Placed His Hands On My…” Crap… That’s The Summit

I kept climbing mountains

Even after I went blind.

Sure, the view was nothing much

But now instead I find

The mountain tells me stories

That I can read in braille.

Sure, they can be predictable

But they have such great detail!

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Awaken, My Love, To A Secret Gift

As every day the sun has risen

Since the day all men were born

To signal coming of a new day

By the sunlight through the corn,

By the very first song of the birds

Hidden in a distant tree

So do I hope my eyes will settle

On you lying next to me,

And as the sun casts shadows over

All that lives beneath the light

I hope my mind is full of mem’ries

Of what happened through the night.

As heaven transforms from black to gold

And clouds shift from orange to cream

And your eyes flicker and welcome me

I know I’ve achieved my dream.

As you see my smile widen more

Than it would by normal grace

You see into my mind and demand

“What did you draw on my face?”

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Know Your Place

Whether we walk by the mountains or sea

We consider ourselves on the ground,

But the birds and the fish far below disagree

And render the notion unsound.

The birds up above sing to each other

Of how humans choose not to fly,

Enjoying the feeling that comes from remaining

Always at the bottom of “sky.”

The fish and the whales and coral and seals

Think of our waterless place

As one way a heaven, in other ways hell,

Just as we humans must think of space.

We are at the apex, we are at the bottom,

All trapped by the pull of a star.

To some we are Gods, to others we’re vermin

And I’m just content that we are.

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How Much Would You Cry If You Had 17 Eyes?

There are ten-quintillion insects

In the world, we estimate

Who deal daily with the fact

They’re objects of our hate.

They’ve never read a poem

And they’ve never seen a play

And we just go and murder them

As they go about their day.

Lots of people say things:

“Love your neighbor,” “Peace not war,”

But they don’t even bat an eye

When vacuuming their floor.

I think when we begin to care

For the welfare of bugs

Humanity will finally see

The real value of hugs.

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Beauty Without Photoshop

Willow, willow, don’t you weep.

Just calm upon the Earth sit.

Your loveliness has but one name:

Arb’oreal: Because you’re worth it.

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