The Blue Heron Always Flies Away

The blue heron always flies away
in early morning as I leave for work.
Try to be quiet going down stairs, he hears
heavy footsteps.
No, one else is out near my place:
just the lake and other wild animals in nature.
But, why do you come spending only short time at the lake?
Why not stay longer?
I ask, cause I seem to be the only one who rises early
and want to fly to work on time.


After Rain Saying

Rain stopped.
Clouds still hung dark.
Gray skies opened to lighter shades
Showing pinks, reds and oranges
As sun set for evening.
I looked at splash of color,
Thinking what has
Been passed down through generation:
“Red skies at night, sailors delight;
Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.”
A saying I’ve heard so many times.
It always seems to to ring true.
I hope tomorrow skies will be blue.

Early Rains Of Spring

Rain splatters upon the deck
Striking a click splat as I gaze out
Why do birds still chirp when rain comes down?
I watch sitting in a wicker chair under covering outside
Spring begins to come alive
I see buds ache to open into flowers
Waiting for trees to soak water through their roots
I can almost see water snaking through their veins
Rushing to meet the budding flowers demands
It’s damp and I begin to shiver
Spring still tries to thaw itself out
I stand up to feel the cool rain against my face
And open my mouth to taste the fresh cool drops it offers
I close my eyes and enjoy what’s given
Sweet smell of rain perfumes before me
As sweet the scented pine cones at winter
I stay long enough to soak myself to a relaxing state
Until the rains turn into driving sheets
Which force me inside before the raindrops
Begin to pelt their beatings on my face

April 25th prompt from this site

Flowers Sing Of Spring

The cows lay lazy in the house
Pulled with sleep
Wrapped around sheets
The cool air outside
The birds chirps
Sounding on trumpets
To welcome spring through open doors
Buds busting forth
Flowers unfurl their state flags
They begin to sing in rapturous chorus
Black music notes on bars come out
As they sway their petal arms in the air
I watch behind a window enthralled
At their beauty thinking only of when time comes
I will pluck them for a bouquet for my one true love

April 21st prompt from this site