The Cat in The Mist

The evening sky’s darken, falling slowly to the ground,
Soft mist is filling the air with a whispering sound.
A dim light from a lamp post exposes something down below,
It’s a sleek black cat with a shiny coat moving very slow.

I’ve never seen the likes of it, a smooth sophisticated stroll,
Gazing upon him I question myself, is he’s tired hungry or cold.
I watch this silent creature move down the cool wet street,
I wonder if there is a home, a someone waiting for him to greet.

Perhaps he lives in the city with a  pack of other cats,
Or possibly  he’s a loner and stays near the railroad tracts.
If I knew for certain that this little guy lived all alone,
There would be no hesitation for me to take him home.

Author: Eileen Clark

Image: http://montanabel.gallery.ru/watch?ph=0sl-cTavC

also try ~ organizationallyimpaired.tumblr.c…

Spring

Spring!

There is no time like Spring,
When life’s alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back
Along the trackless track –
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, –
Before the daisy grows a common flower
Before the sun has power
To scorch the world up in his noontide hour…

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Christina Georgina Rossetti was an English writer of romantic, devotional and children’s poems, including “Goblin Market” and “Remember”. Wikipedia

Born: December 5, 1830, London, United Kingdom

Died: December 29, 1894, Torrington Square

Garden Image:wayfair.com

Susan Rios Hollyhock House by Susan Rios – Print on Canvas

What Is A Cat ?

Gentle eyes
that see so much,
paws that have
the quiet touch.

Purrs to signal
“all is well”
and show more love
than words can tell.

Graceful movements
touched with pride,
a calming presence
by our side.

A friendship
that will last and grow,
small wonder
why we love them so.

Author Unknown

Indian Children

Where we walk to school each day
Indian children used to play-
All about our native land,
Where the shops and houses stand.

And the trees were very tall,
And there were no streets at all,
Not a church and not a steeple-
Only woods and Indian people.

Only wigwams on the ground,
And at night bears prowling round-
What a different place today
Where we live and work and play!

by Annette Wynne

Image:https://www.etsy.com/

The Winds of March

The winds of March are wild and strong,
They howl and whistle all day long;
They pull the hats from tall men’s heads
And frighten children in their beds.

They brush the trees, they sweep the ground,
I’m glad no seedlings can be found,
For March would hurt each leaf and stem—
But April-time was made for them!

Image:https://nomadicalley.bigcartel.com/

by Annette Wynne ~ 1919 – 1922

An American poet specialising in children’s poetry. In 1919, her book of children’s poems, For Days and Days: A Year Round Treasury of Child Verse was published, followed by Treasure Things in 1922.

https://pennyspoetry.fandom.com/wiki/Annette_Wynne