Words from the Heart

As a little girl, I loved to read Nursery Rhymes.  One of my favorites was, Mary, Mary Quiet Contrary .   When I asked my mother what contrary meant, she explained that it was a word used to describe someone who didn't do things the way everyone else did.  I liked that idea!  Being contrary meant you could be different. As the years passed, I realized that Mary was being hard to get along with, she simply wanted a garden that grew wild and free.  No neat rows and carefully coiffed hedges for her! Inspired, my garden is a WILD-erness, too!  Here are some pictures to brighten your day, along with the poem. Mary, Mary, quiet contrary How does your garden grow? With cockershells and silverbells, And pretty maids all in a row.  

On this July 4th weekend, I have waxed nostalgic. Thinking of summers past, I decided to share some "summer poems."  Enjoy! Wet Cement   The hellacious heat of summer cooked us  as we sat in the shade of curtained rooms.  The rumblings of thunder could be heard  far away, like an oncoming train that is heard  long before it arrives, rattling into a station.  The air sat heavy on us, except when the fan,  positioned to blow like a zephyr back and forth,  happened to kiss our salt-laden skin.  Suddenly, light exploded outside the window  open to emit the tiniest relief from the building heat.  One by one, they come, loosed from clouds – We peek out the windowed shelter like hunters,  peering through the blind, waiting for the flock to land.  In moments, the streets become alive with the sound of  thousands of tiny fairy feet kissing the scalding concrete. The magic of their dance imme...