Bear Care
With all the turmoil
in the news each morn,
I turn to a bear
who doesn’t care.
Many in Europe
now lean to the right,
North Korea may do
blah, blah, blah,
lots in DC are falling
from great heights,
but I turn to a silly bear
who doesn’t care.
Every morning
I check the zoo cam
to find my panda friend
leading his life,
trotting about
and climbing there,
thankfully,
I can turn to this bear
who doesn’t care.
October 25 in Morton Arboretum East Woods
October’s Colors
Yellow and green
and orange buttons
and more green
in paddles of fungi
red of sumac
and red of maple
and red in my heart
burning with autumn
look at the colors
flying like flags
blazing a sky
before ice grays it
Green “paddle” fungi
Little white umbrella!
Tiny (3/8″) orange buttons with sister moss
Fragrance
sweet tart orange—
tinges of this taste
embed a fragrance
the old mock orange
vines over a fence
in gentle greeting
At old house in Lombard, IL
flowers made of air
petals dense in color
colors beyond palettes
sky bluer than ever
blue I can breathe
spring surging
beyond expectations
fulfilling hopes seeded
in coldest times
Morton Arboretum April 23
could this be spring
the blue too blue
tiny greens
alight with yellow
barely peeping from
high ink limbs
all fresh and full
of hope
Morton Arboretum April 23
Wild Geraniums
Chill of May
sweeps through soft seas
of wild geraniums
here in deep woods,
their lavender-pink heads
moving slightly
in waves of thick green,
a scene soon to disappear
as seasons move
to seasons,
reminder of endings
and beginnings.
This poem is my tribute to a family member, age 22, and all the others who fell victim to the pain-killer Oxycontin. They were productive citizens hoping to contribute to society and were fooled by a medical treatment.
Morton Arboretum, May 19, 2016
Tiny One
Beauty,
you have arrived,
in your fuzzy silver coat,
searching black beak,
and sooty eyes,
such a tiny bit
of eagle next to
your giant father,
hovering over the nest,
letting you see
your new world,
feeding you bits
of fresh fish,
beside two eggs
holding your sisters
a few more hours.
Bald Eagle father surveys his realm for the tiny brood.
