A Loony Obsession

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You’d think it not possible
But yet it is so
I love them so much
I’ll give it a go

I think it’s my fourth
But it might be the third
When it comes to loon poetry
I am a real nerd

Please excuse the excess
But they give me delight
And this summer I’m happy
To report a new sight

The loons have a chick
Their nest did succeed
They prepare for the future
Of a glorious breed

In case you need telling
The chick is darn cute
And black is the color
Of his birthday suit

His parents do gather
Lots of fish for his feed
They are rather doting
They attend to his needs

At first on their backs
The time he would pass
But now that he’s bigger
And gaining some mass

He swims on his own
Between parents he bobbles
They stay close to help
If he starts to do wobbles

Eight weeks or about
And full grown he will be
To make the long journey
Out close to the sea

Next summer I’ll return
To this very spot
Hoping to see loons
Since an obsession I got

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On the Subject of Spiders

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Someone read my poetry bad
And told me he’d be very glad
For a poem about spiders

I’m not sure the reason why
But told him I would go and try
Here’s my poem about spiders

I like how they swing from strings
They do okay, despite no wings

Their webs are pretty, that’s for sure
With geometric patterns I do adore

Eight legs they have, which seems a lot
Since only two is what I’ve got

Arachnids they are called, I think
I’ve not idea what they like to drink

On second thought I think it’s blood
Insects caught must say “Oh, crud”

That’s enough on this here species
Writing more would give me creepies
And that’s my poem about spiders

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My Own Little Personal Hell

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The internet ringy-dingy
That little circle thingy

That spins round and round
‘Til what I clicked on is found

Waiting for it to work
I sit, and steam, and lurk

While the circle spins fast
I ponder the past

When the circle spins slow
I hit an all-time low

It drives me bonkers-crazy
When the internet’s this lazy

The connection should be strong
What is taking it this long?

After I’m in a perfect rage
It finally finds the page

But what I was looking for
Might now be historical lore

More megabytes I do need
To pick up internet speed

But really what are the odds
This will satisfy internet gods?

Will they ever fix my DSL?
This, my personal internet hell.

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New Loon Soon

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The loons that live upon the lake
Try their best to babies make

They wait ‘til June and build a nest
They pick a spot they think is best

Taking turns they sit thereon
Two eggs tops, but likely one

They did the same this time last year
It didn’t work, Oh dear, Oh dear!

Let’s hope this time they do succeed
Since loons, my favorite waterfowl breed

Look and sound marvelous upon the lake
Parents and a baby would happy me make

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Goldilock’s Choice

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Cottage, shack, or mansion
The choice is hard to make
But given my own druthers
A cottage I would take

Mansions big and roomy
With closet space galore
But me? I’d often wonder
What is all this stuff for?

A shack, the size is perfect
But the furniture’s a mess
Where the junk did come from
Is anybody’s guess

As Goldilocks would say
A cottage is just right
Sunny and cheery by day
And cozy and comfy at night

The furnishings not too shabby
But also nothing chic
Clean, and tidy, uncluttered
The kind of place I seek

A veggie garden and flowers
In pinks, and yellows, and blues
A rocking chair on the porch
Overlooking the lovely views

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Time Flies

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It happens every time, I say
One hour tops, but not all day

Plant one plant, and two or three seeds
Oh, but now look at all those weeds!

So I weed, and I’ll mulch right now
Else next time I will need a plow

Deadhead that flower, and that one, too
Oh, and look at what all blooms anew!

Now where was I? Finding shears for pruning
Indeed, there’s always something needs doing

And thus another day has passed
I’ve spent in the garden. It won’t be my last.

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Unseasonal

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My poem this week’s a little late
Because I couldn’t concentrate
Busy looking at the weather
I couldn’t get my thoughts together
This weekend: Memorial Day
Is supposed to be for summer play
But in Vermont it’s been so cold
That on Saturday it was so bold
As to snow!
So there you go
My concentration was destroyed
But rather than to be annoyed
I decided it was kind of nice
A bit of winter, at least a slice
It’s warming up again today
Back to what you expect in May

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No Deadlines, Please

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To write fast
Would be a blast
But based on my history, and my past
I get on a roll, but it does not last

I write slow
That’s how the words flow
Sometimes it makes me rather low
But that’s just how these things go

Ignoring time
And my own deadlines
I sit and worry, and away do pine
To get the phrasing perfect and sublime

No deadlines
No, I am not inclined
To schedule writing to specific times
And that’s the end of this here rhyme

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Vermont on the Horizon

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It is May, and so that means
I’m figuring out my Vermont schemes

The lake is thawed, our shack is calling
So I tell Hubby, let’s not be stalling

We’ll pack up the car with all our loot
Hubby will plan our two-day route

We can’t go ‘till the coast is clear
By that I mean no frost-warning fear

Like tonight, it will be twenty-seven degrees
The shack has no heat, and I don’t like to freeze

The pipes will freeze, too, if too soon we arrive
And so we postpone that very long drive

Memorial Day should be a good time
Spring comes late to Vermont, but is always sublime

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