The Cherry On Top

It only seems right to top off the last day of NaPoWriMo with some poetry.  And, since this Midwestern day was such a masterpiece, let me present some words about nature:

“Those Who Thirst”

I listen
to the sound of life
as it rolls over river rocks,
so smooth and tucked securely in bed.
A butterfly finds rest
on a pillar of earth and pumps
her wings slowly, gasping
to catch her breath.
Life bubbles over
the stony cliff
into calmer streams.
It’s clear
fish are lifelong prisoners.
I sit and watch
life pass me by—
     current
          after
              current.
Each one new
and fresh—
perhaps that’s how they got their name.
And,
      currently,
my life is sustained.
            I drink
at the edge of these waters,
     sipping softly
from a straw in my bottle
and watch a dragonfly
with fishnet wings
slurp from the surface of the stream.
For all those who thirst
must come to the water
if they want to find life.

 

“In the Neighborhood”

I crush homes and destroy life
as I trample the earth, striding
towards the shade of a large oak.
Squirrels chase
each other and race
back home,
            leaping
                               from flimsy limbs
                   at the tops of trees,
and skipping past houses
built by beaks,
nestled near the crook
of an old trunk.
This is their playground.
The tree is the house next door.

A flock of five blackbirds
scour the land, searching
for their morning meal,
while earlier birds fly back
to their branch with breakfast
            in their bill.
This park is their front yard
and their grocery store.
Where do they go
when they need a doctor?

The grass is alive
with unseen beings
crawling beneath skyscraper blades.
Some daredevils scale up
the sides of vertical vegetation.
                              A dragonfly perches
atop one thin, green building
and must seem like Godzilla
            with wings.

A spider crawls along
the brim of my blanket
and I wonder if they are the one
neighbor that nobody likes.
Spiders are spoiled—
blessed with two extra legs
and houses of inherited silk.
            They’re nothing
but fancy pants tightrope walkers.

A cardinal lands
a few feet in front of me
and squawks in my direction.
I return his gaze
as he cocks his head and puffs
his avian mohawk.

She’s odd,
the bird seems to think.

But I discover
that if you’re still
and silent long enough,
you just might get to move
            in for a little while.

“On Being a Blue Jay”

 Being a bird
with cerulean feathers
is a cardinal sin.

 

“Green Thumb”

 Life is a garden:
nurture what’s beautiful,
uproot what isn’t.

 

“Land Marks”

Who first scattered fish
to free-standing waters?
Or sowed the forests
into patches for slaughter?

Who plucked mountain peaks
and pulled them high?
Or screwed light bulbs
into the night?

Who strategized
                         to sprinkle
                                            sand
along the wettest
            and the driest lands?

If one molecule bumped
another on accident,
but no one hears it,
            did it happen?

Was it simply a collision
or a Creator at play?
And what does it mean
when it starts to decay?

Thanks for stopping by my blog throughout this NaPoWriMo journey.  If you joined me in this challenge, I really hope you enjoyed it!  Please share some of your poems in the comment section below!

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