The wonderment of it all can only be imagined.
Our tiny rock, powered by a relatively small sun.
We share it with innumerable insects, reptiles,
animals of all sorts, sea life, and fowl.

We’re the intelligent ones, or so it’s been said,
though perhaps that’s imagined also. We think nature’s
creatures are our subordinates, yet they don’t tote guns,
start wars, or pollute, steal, discriminate, cheat,
or practice cruelty the way we “smart ones” do.

Animals may kill to eat, but we for a thousand reasons or
maybe none. Imagine what we might learn from nature’s world,
or from a different life form I can easily imagine, light years
away under a foreign sun, these exemplary souls of peace and
harmony. My mind resonates with thoughts these beings learned all
the lessons we ignored, stretching psyches to total intelligence.
We’re partially there, not almost, but imagine the possibility.

Ancient in years, he lay alone
in his rickety bed clutching his only pillow
which, like him, was stained and creased from
time’s cruel assault. He knew his remaining days
were waning, the constant clock ticking them away,
but loneliness and age robbed any concern.

Sinking his head into the crusty pillow, sleep
conquered the old man in no time, the dream following
close behind, capturing his psyche, holding his
mind at ransom. Swiftly, the dream carried him
off to see the world even with eyes tightly
shut, his sleepy unawareness transformed to
conscious thought without his awakening.

In minutes he saw what he had never seen in all his
abundant years: people of all colors, creeds, and religions
living side by side in peace and harmony. He saw
nothing remained of war, hunger, disease, or crime
but bitter memories. Awake now, he refocused on
reality, indifferent once again his days were few.

Without a hint, Bach soon lashed out with fury,
his up tempo allegro sending her speeding, now
spinning, jumping, twisting, her arms and legs
seemingly connected as they moved in harmonious
agreement. The music slowed once more, now dark
and melancholy, and she skated easily, relaxed,
catching her breath in preparation for Bach’s
torrid, unrestrained finale.

Moments later, she hastened again, more so
than before, her mind and body in total command
of an array of balletic movements, ending with an
abrupt stop, a plume of icy spray behind her.
Thunderous applause and tossed bouquets filled the air,
mixed with shouts of “Bravo!”. Witness to such perfection,
delivered by such a small child, I wiped away a tear.
“Bravo!” I yelled, “Bravo!”

We ambled on down the midway, deciding to see a couple
of sideshow freaks, their makeup so obviously phony
I laughed tears from my eyes, while lovable but gullible Ann
studied them in earnest awe. So many things to see and do.
Exhibits, rides and games, competitions, animals big and small,
attractions galore.

I dipped into my pockets for the evening’s much
advertised concert, after which Ann wanted to
check out the pig judging finals. I agreed, saying
we better grab a coney island first because seeing
pork will make me hungry. Her turn to laugh, she did,
spreading the cotton candy wide
on her cute little face.

I wouldn’t want a name like that
So I called it Ann Marie
Kate said it would be a friend
A plant? Now how could that be?

Just something else to take care of
The thought brought me no glee
I placed it in sunlight
On the table with the potpourri

As time marched on I did my best
To tend to it responsibly
Fed and sprayed and watered it
Babied it tenderly

On my birthday, a special gift
From, by now a friend, Ann Marie
A red and yellow flower
Blossomed just for me

On to the meadow unhurried I stroll
In the season of new birth, spot a wild foal
The wonders of nature I quickly extol
Sprawled on fresh grass, I glint at blue sky
All troubles vanish in the wake of a sigh

I reach for a flower, bend for it’s scent
A fragrance so sweet from heaven sent
Closing my eyes I breathe my content
The bug on my hand can cause no grief
Gently It’s moved to the flower’s leaf

I stay for an hour, sometimes two
At this perfect setting for peace to pursue
Where life’s agonies never fail to subdue
It’s springtime in the meadow so then
Tomorrow’s always the day I’ll be back again

Now a dash of zero, now half a stick of naught,
then fresh homemade nix, not the store bought.
Sally’s just loaded with secret little tricks,
to add a bit of flavor to her special no cal mix.

“Don’t forget nothing”, chimed her ragdoll cat.
Sally just ignored him, knowing cats can’t chat.
Her mental state has never been so grim
as to think a cat can talk, even on a whim.

“Don’t forget nothing”, the cat mewed a second time.
This time it floored her, stopped her on a dime.
Though it was far beyond comprehension,
she was now proud of cat’s unique dimension.

But appalled at his grammar, she bent down to descend
“You mean ‘Don’t forget anything’, right feline friend?”
“No, don’t forget nothing” the cat quipped from his mat.
Nothing was added to the stew and that’s the end of that.

After minutes – was it an hour? – watery
eyes glanced sideways at my friend Don,
both of us grinning like six year olds
blowing out candles on a birthday cake.
Our fourth attempt. Our first conquest.

Shivering, my steamy breath formulated
a question I could answer, “Just how high
is Mt. Hood, Don?” Without hesitation,
Don rolled a cloud of steam back, “Eleven
thousand, two hundred thirty-seven feet,
eight and three-quarter inches.”
We laughed and laughed, me wondering all
the while if the extra inches were true.

It was December 17, 1903, and the boys from Ohio weren’t
listening, in favor of spending time at the beach with
the flying machine they optimistically named “The Flyer”.
Turning the self-made propeller on the self-built engine,
the machine coughed, sputtered, then bellowed, ready now
for a third attempt to imitate a bird, to shed it’s bondage
to the earth.

Wilbur Wright at the controls, it lifted into the air,
bouncing up and down to a height of 10 feet before kicking up
sand some 12 seconds later and 120 feet distant. When news
reached his saloon, Al softened a bit, saying he was glad
the boy’s folly had given them a little fun, but nothing more
will ever come of it. “Hear, Hear” came the chorus, holding out
glasses as Al circled the room pouring another round.

Dear Mother Earth with rising fever,
you’re much too warm, I’m a believer.
Ignoring you is an aberration,
as is conquest and control.

Your good health need be our goal,
by partnership not domination.
Dear Mother Earth of man’s pollution,
your air and water beg for solution.

Acid rain and smog spell danger,
We better wake up, become a changer.
Dear Mother Earth of overpopulation,
too many dwellers leads to devastation,
best we slow our rate of birth.

Our relationship is near disaster,
we must take action, take it faster,
restore your health for all life’s worth.