My Cats by The Hearth
It’s cold outside, the wind is blowing
Freeze in the air, soon it will be snowing
Nothing can be better on this whole earth
Just watching my cats sleeping by the hearth
Many a cat would be filled with delight
To be in a warm cozy home for the night
But for them it’s just a dream far out of sight
Only abandonment is to be their plight
All I can offer is this plea to all of you
Can you adopt a cat, or maybe even two
If you have a cat, can you neuter or spayed
By doing this less cats have to be saved
I feel a shiver as I here the wind howl
Oh so many cats tonight out on the prowl
I am filled with thankfulness gaiety and mirth
As I gaze at my at my sleeping cats by the hearth
By Eileen 2012
The child’s wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.
by Carl Sandburg
Time & Cookies
Time quickly goes away,
like cookies on a plate.
Maybe if we bake some more,
We can make time wait.
Black Iron Gate
In the back yard all alone I sit,
Warm Spring sun, softness of breeze.
Trusting friends will come for a visit,
Hearing the squeak of that gate, oh please.
Seedlings float by brushing my cheeks,
I dream of running, oh wouldn’t that be great.
Thoughts float by, I’m wading in creeks,
Better still, I hear the squeak of the gate.
Hopefully they’ll come, friends and class mates.
I try very hard to keep a smile on my face,
In my mind, I can go just about any place.
No one is coming, in the warmth of this day,
I’ll stay positive, I’ll read my book.
At the black iron gate, no more shall I look.
Day is near end, what more to hear, what more to say,
The black iron gate did not squeak, didn’t open, nor sway,
There were no friends to come visit me today.
I traveled down many paths in the woods,
Climbed mountains and waded in brooks.
I did all of these things and many more,
My adventures come from all my books.
Another rising, another day I will again in my
back yard wait,
Sitting under colored trees, crisp air telling of Fall.
With my books in my lap, near the black iron gate,
Indeed I have no doubt, soon my friends will call.
|When men were all asleep the snow came flying,|
|In large white flakes falling on the city brown,|
|Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying,|
|Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town;|
|Deadening, muffling, stifling its murmurs failing;|
|Lazily and incessantly floating down and down:|
|Silently sifting and veiling road, roof and railing;|
|Hiding difference, making unevenness even,|
|Into angles and crevices softly drifting and sailing.|
|All night it fell, and when full inches seven|
|It lay in the depth of its uncompacted lightness,|
|The clouds blew off from a high and frosty heaven;|
|And all woke earlier for the unaccustomed brightness|
|Of the winter dawning, the strange unheavenly glare:|
|The eye marvelled – marvelled at the dazzling whiteness;|
|The ear hearkened to the stillness of the solemn air;|
|No sound of wheel rumbling nor of foot falling,|
|And the busy morning cries came thin and spare.|
|Then boys I heard, as they went to school, calling,|
|They gathered up the crystal manna to freeze|
|Their tongues with tasting, their hands with snowballing;|
|Or rioted in a drift, plunging up to the knees;|
|Or peering up from under the white-mossed wonder!’|
|‘O look at the trees!’ they cried, ‘O look at the trees!’|
|With lessened load a few carts creak and blunder,|
|Following along the white deserted way,|
|A country company long dispersed asunder:|
|When now already the sun, in pale display|
|Standing by Paul’s high dome, spread forth below|
|His sparkling beams, and awoke the stir of the day.|
|For now doors open, and war is waged with the snow;|
|And trains of sombre men, past tale of number,|
|Tread long brown paths, as toward their toil they go:|
|But even for them awhile no cares encumber|
|Their minds diverted; the daily word is unspoken,|
|The daily thoughts of labour and sorrow slumber|
At the sight of the beauty that greets them,
for the charm they have broken.
- 1 orange peel (reserve a few thin strips for garnish if desired)
- 1 lemon peel
- 8 brown sugar cubes
- 1 cinnamon stick
- 6 whole cloves
- 1/4 cup brandy
- 1/4 cup Grand Marnier
- 1 tsp vanilla extract
- Pinch of salt
- 2 1/4 cups hot brewed Cafe de Monde coffee