Two to a pair,
Wiggle as they walk,
Little bottoms in the air.
Theres nothing quite as smiley,
As flapping quacking ducks,
Shaking in the water, cute little tail like tufts.
Here comes the swan with her infinite beauty and grace,
She becomes quite amusing when she touches her bottom to her face,
Her flexible neck winds around her,
She plucks, she preens, she prods,
All in a days work,
To keep her wetsuit on.
Being A ‘Perfectionist’ Writer (just thinking & feeling on paper) …
You can’t come to me, you have nothing to say,
No matter how hard I ‘try’ it’s not happening today.
Nature’s treasures surround me,
Many blessings have found me,
The sun it shines,
The music is a chorus of an unknown language.
I wear a bug as a ring,
As I write this ‘thing’,
Its beautiful antenae and anteater snout,
Not sure what jewel he is,
But he stuns me all the same.
He’s simply basking on my knuckle,
Tasting me, who knows?
Hes another bug that flies,
They seem to like me,
Don’t know why.
If I Could Be Anything?
If I could be anything other than me,
I would be the sap within this beautiful tree,
I would be the nectar to this buzzing bee,
If I could be anything other than me.
Nature seems so much simpler
It is, it ‘be’s’, it simply knows its place,
It doesn’t have another face.
The Creative Muse
I’m struggling today to find my creative muse,
She seems blocked by effort as I prod and peruse.
It seemed more simple when I was sick,
My mind less cluttered, my creativity thick.
Maybe today’s just not the day to write or play,
Maybe I must simply be with this discomfort and allow myself to pray.