Take your children by hand and a paper bag Hurry, don't let your feet too slowly drag Into the woods today we're headed for sure Going to let nature give us a memorable tourNow sun is yellow and warm making bright our faces Soon we'll be in cool dark green whispering places
Big things we see, gigantic boulders, tall pine trees
We're looking for tiny things hidden under rocks
logs and leavesWe might find a Lady Slipper and give it to Mom
A Jack-in-the-Pulpit we could give to Uncle Rom
Sweet berries are every where, but we mustn't eat
Watch the birds, see if they do make them a treatShush, I hear a sound coming from that hallow log on the ground
It might be a frog, chipmunk, or possibly a fairy
sneaking around
"I believe your imagination has gone off in a whirl
You funny child, it's only a fluffy brown squirrel"
The sun now a orange and red in the lower cooler
darkened sky,
To the birds, frogs, chipmunks, squirrels, and possibly a fairy say goodbye
Get your rocks, berries, Lady Slippers, your leaves, moss and wood
When we get home and empty your bag, we'll see that you did really goodPlace the moss in the garden, rocks and wood on your shelf in a row,
Your golden leaves pressed in wax paper and hung in the kitchen window.
All that fresh air, running and climbing has made you a sleepy head,
Eat your supper, have your hot shower, then off you go to bed.Dreaming about the Lady slippers, frogs, squirrels and possibly a fairy no longer in its secret place,
When morning comes and your refreshed, check the bag, make sure it's empty---just saying in case.
Author Eileen Clark
The Summers were hot in the suburbs of our city, We had a small sandy yard, a few toys and a kitty. It was just me and my brother ages four and six, We tried to dig to China with a shovel and some sticks.
Into the hole my brother presses down his ear, Be quiet little sister for I am trying to hear. Running to mom shouting, I hear people talking, Dig further down son, you might see them walking.
How grand our mother was, able to keep us entertained, Though times were hard, we never heard her complain. My children live in luxury with every electronic game, If I told them to dig to China, they'd think I was insane.Author Eileen Clark 2022
This poem has a lot of truth in it, we actually spent hours digging a hole in our back yard and listening for voices. My brother Dickie who I called Red because he had red curly hair, was positive he heard Chinese people talking and had me convinced. He also really saw the Easter bunny take a bite out of the carrot mom left for it, and he really really saw Santa take a bite out of the oatmeal cookie mom left for him on a plate. My brother was a really convincing kid over his gullible little sister.
A clothesline was a news forecast, to neighbors passing by. There were no secrets you could keep, when clothes were hung to dry. It also was a friendly link, for neighbors always knew, If company had stopped on by, to spend a night or two.
For then you’d see the fancy sheets and towels upon the line; You’d see the company tablecloths, with intricate design. The line announced a baby’s birth, to folks who lived inside, As brand new infant clothes, were hung so carefully with pride.
The ages of the children, could so readily be known By watching how the sizes changed, you’d know how much they’d grown. It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets were hung; Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe too, haphazardly were strung.
It also said “Gone on vacation now”, when lines hung limp and bare. It told “We’re back!” when full lines sagged, with not an inch to spare. New folks in town were scorned upon, if washing was dingy grey, As neighbors carefully raised their brows, and looked disgustedly away.
But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work much less, Now what goes on inside a home, is anybody’s guess. I really miss that way of life; it was a friendly sign, When neighbors knew each other best, by what was hanging on the line.
LEAVES, RED, ORANGE, AND FALLING
DYING, CHANGING, YELLOW, BROWN, AND GOLDEN
COLORS, BRIGHT, GLOWING, LIVELY
MAKE AN AUTUMN SHADOW FLOWING
COLORS BEYOND BELIEF
By Anita
Age 10
“It’s not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It’s our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.”
L.R. Knost
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