Small Stone, July 2014, Sixteenth
Stop. Listen. What's that Sound?
The crunch of my shoes on gravel, a bass line to the syncopated chirrup of insects going about their day.
July Writing Project - A Poem a Day - Day Sixteen
A gift was offered without string attached
One whose intrinsic value was unmatched
The donor did not count effort or cost
When giving it freely nothing was lost
The recipient saw only the result that day
And selfishly not even Thank You! would say
Scheming, you see, and quickly it was sold -
A priceless gift was callously traded for gold
Day turned to night, and month turned to year
And youthful enthusiasm morphed into fear
Money was squandered - life became hard
Hope soon lost and dreams? Broken and scarred
Bitter the miser now sits - hungry and cold
No family or friend to lovingly enfold
Ranting and raving - still unwilling to accept
The true cost paid for what was sold and not kept
Sixteenth Noticing, July 2014
A polar vortex (?) has presented us with "fall-like" temperatures for mid-July. *** I wonder at the terminology of weather professionals sometimes. *** Walking to the mailbox to retrieve a lone piece of mail, the only sounds are the crunch of my shoes on the gravel of our drive and the rhythmic chirrup of insects by the creek. Lovely day here on my mountain. 64 F (18 C) Slight breeze, mostly sunny, low humidity. The campaign advertisement for a politician I have never even heard of does not even rankle.