The little tree by the old road fence
Grew in the summer sun.
“I want to grow tall,” said the little tree,
“And growing is so much fun.”
The little brook running beneath the bridge
Babbled and sang all day.
“I want to become a river,” it said,
“So I’m hastening on my way.”
The little bird fluttered from out the nest,
And flew far across the yard.
“I’ll be a big bird,” said she and twittered,
“If each day I try real hard.”
The little boy stood on his tiptoes and stretched.
“I’m just like the rest,” said he,
“I want to grow up and see the big world-
And the sooner the better for me!”
Mother Nature smiled at all her fledglings,
But she did not bid them stay.
She knew that to live and grow and age
Is forever Nature’s way.
maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn’t remember her troubles,and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
Smooth it glides upon its travel,
Here a wimple, there a gleam—
O the clean gravel!
O the smooth stream!
Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
Paven pools as clear as air—
How a child wishes
To live down there!
We can see our coloured faces
Floating on the shaken pool
Down in cool places,
Dim and very cool;
Till a wind or water wrinkle,
Dipping marten, plumping trout,
Spreads in a twinkle
And blots all out.
See the rings pursue each other;
All below grows black as night,
Just as if mother
Had blown out the light!
Patience, children, just a minute—
See the spreading circles die;
The stream and all in it
Will clear by-and-by.
THIS was your butterfly, you see.
His fine wings made him vain?—
The caterpillars crawl, but he
Passed them in rich disdain?—
My pretty boy says: “Let him be
Only a worm again?”
Oh, child, when things have learned to wear
Wings once, they must be fain
To keep them always high and fair.
Think of the creeping pain
Which even a butterfly must bear
To be a worm again!
Swirling from within my magical jar,
wee ‘lil bits of shooting stars.
Like sparks in the dark upon the skies,
enshrouded in streams of fireflies.
Glimmering, shimmering, within a glow,
like bits of glitter within the winds flow.
Carry me away into the blackest of night,
within the streams of the fireflies flight.
Express permission granted to repost from author Robert Paul Chaney ~ Baltimore Woods says “Thank you!”
You hope the gift of silence
will last forever in woods
miles up this ridge from the road
Yet along this trail you hear
a swift rustle to the side
that halts when you turn to see
Everything stands motionless
thick vines block your field of view
through larch trees and giant ferns
You push ahead still aware
something light matches the stride
of your footfalls on the path
You climb on a cleaved boulder
which juts like a wrecking ball
impacted in the hillside
On the far side of that stone
you purse your lips and whistle
then watch for movement nearby
Perhaps you heard the ground rise
or surface roots suckle rain
convincing you nothing’s here
Aloof but omnipresent
you grasp what you came to find
silence follows inside you
Author’s website profile: https://pbase.com/mankin_images/profile
Name of author: Grady Mankin (username: blue roan)