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Good days, bad days. We’ve all had a few. One without the other would just never do. Without the countless hours of working, chores, and say cleaning, without those hard-pressed moments to bring you to life’s meaning, you just wouldn’t feel the same on those restful, blissful days, doing what your heart desires in all the countless ways.

So in that old familiar saying, of work hard, play hard, when you’re down in the ruts, know you’ll appreciate tomorrow better, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Beautiful Night

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Can I touch the stars? Are they there for me?

Can I run my hand through stardust for free?

Is the sky lit with a million sparks,

to brighten the night when it’s at most dark?

And the moon. The moon. It comes along,

to flash it’s light with a moonlit song.

Singing, little Earthlings, so near and dear,

here’s a light to erase your darkest fear.

And when I come back, to make things fun,

I’ll play a game of hide the sun.


My World Above the Sky

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If I climbed a giant beanstalk, where might it take me?

Above the tallest cloud and past the farthest sea?

Would the grass be pink dappled with singing flowers,

trees with blue leaves swaying taller than towers?

How about a river that bubbled with a soft rush of waves,

splashing on diamond rocks, disappearing into emerald caves?

What if the sky in this place, instead of hues of blue,

was a glowing canvas of pink with an orange glaze, too?

And when my tummy growled hungry, all I’d have to do

is touch my right temple and brew up a stew.

If it’s giant sweet corn that rather tickled my fancy,

or a slice of watermelon so tall that I can’t see,

past the very tippy top nor around either side,

a nice nibbled tunnel chewed down to the hide

would fill up my tummy so…

that off to sleep on a me-sized feather is where I’ll want to go.

While the flowers hum lullabies and the wind blows me to rocking,

I’ll rest my tired feet from all the climbing and walking.

But what would I dream of that could possibly be more grand,

than my world above the sky in my very own dream land?

Perfect Creature of the Night

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The wind howls as the night devours the land. Shadows creep with each tick of a clock’s hand.

The day’s animals grow tired, cozying up in their warm beds, while other creatures of the night, like yourself, arise in delight with the sound of the wind.

Eyes like glowing balls of curiosity and opportunity peek from bushes and logs and dark crevices. The time has come for hunting and gathering under the faint light of the moon or along the reflective moon’s path on the water.

Others prefer a light-less night to their advantage, with the only specks of light from fireflies, dancing in unpredictable paths around the forest floor and some up toward the canopy. One flash in the right, or wrong, place could spell danger for the hunter, or the hunted.

Stay low…stay still…stay quiet.

Until…pounce, tumble, gnash, and gnarl. The hunt is over for some-a slight miss for others. A lucky break for the prey, or unlucky if tonight is his last.

Dinner, or is it breakfast, is served.

It’s off to find a mate. Look at me. I am fierce and full of life.

Then it’s off to find a source of water after the meal.

Maybe the hunt is for the babies in the den or up in the tree. This night is for them, not so much for me.

A quick dip in the river or through the falling water, cleans and cools on a sweltering night-warms and cleans on others, when the water’s warmth can be seen escaping in the chilly air.

If it’s river-creatures you seek, here lies a bed of snacks-if you can catch one.

When your den of cubs is a hungry bunch, you have to go it again, maybe for yourself this time. A mother doesn’t have much strength if she can’t also feed herself.

Besides the filling of the tummy, you are a fierce survivor and your steps demand a certain kind of respect in this circle of life you live in. Your every night and waking hour is missioned on living and preserving of your precious species-as is for the next hunter or hunted, and the next…in this grand forest of diversity.

The night grows shorter as the sky brightens ever so slightly. You learn something new each one.

Until the next, you purr, and it’s off to sleep again…your belly full and proud if you were lucky tonight. If you’re one of the hungry ones, there’s always tomorrow with its creeping darkness bringing new opportunity.

Sleep soundly, you perfect creature of the night.

Snowflakes in Spring

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Snowflakes in spring are the strangest of things.

Are they confused just a little or refuse to grow up?

Lost or abandoned, or none of the above?

Snowflakes in spring simply drop for a visit,

to say, “Enjoy the sun and the heat-they’re exquisite.

And in July, August, and September, you’ll think of today

and long to remember-the snowflakes in spring.”

How about heat in December?

Thar’s a Reason for a Sneezin’

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When flow’rs go a poppin’ up and leaves grow out of limbs,

my nose starts tinglin’, twitchin’ and itchin’, and I sing this little gem:

Oh boy. It’s a comin’. Aaa-achooo! Somethin’s up me nose today, and thar she just blew!


Even Buddy, he’s me dog, squeaks out a blow. Thar’s a reason for a sneezin’,

I say, even for pets, ye know. For a teensy, pesky critter, too small to see, goes flyin’ through the air,

plumb to you and me, right up the nostrils where the nose sheriff says, “No way!”

“You can’t enter here. Not ever. And especially not today. Aaa…chooo!”


Dancing Through the Trees

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When September’s air changes to a chilly-nilly kind of cool,

Summer’s ended, leaves are turning, kids are back in school,

Ms. Squirrel is busy, busy, gathering precious food.

For just around Fall’s corner, the cold winter broods.

What will she do those winter months with nothing much to do?

She’ll snuggle among her acorns-that’s what-and hibernate a few.

Sure she’ll miss the snowflakes falling and lovely hills of white,

But she’ll be dancing through the trees, all the days and all the nights.

Looking here and ahead

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Your neck can bend sideways, forward, and up & down. Funny, it can’t do a 360 and spin all the way around. Maybe the message is, instead of looking back, keep your sights to here and now and maybe where you want to go-for that’s the only place you can indulge, and if any-have some control.

Water park fun

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Squatted at the water slide exit, waiting for my child to emerge all-smiles, I inhale the moment. Laughter and splashes surround me.

The smell of chlorine, the small drops that cool me instantly, the warm-mixed-cool swirls of wind on my sun-baked cheeks, stir memories of summers past while my child springs new ones.

There is something about a water park on a hot summer day.

Make a Masterpiece Monday

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Monday boring blues? Try something new. A craft, a sport, a yoga pose. There’s always more to do.