Tag: oak

From Little Acorns

From Little Acorns

 
The Spanish moss
hung in dreadlocks
on the old oak
It stood for centuries
in disguise
Hearing what was spoke
 
More than a tree
growing in the dirt
Standing for generations
A place to meet
Initials to carve
Lovers’ declarations
 
Limbs spread wide
offering shade
to those needing rest
Leaves come and go
a balance of the seasons
space for many a nest
 
Autumn’s abundant acorns
scattered all around
A squirrel’s delight
Rainy day mushrooms
sprouting at trunk’s base
Nighttime streaking moonlight
 
A swallow landing 
on a high up branch
delightfully does he sing
His mate joins him
shortly after
A harbinger of Spring
 
 
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©

Prompts:

Balance

Tree

Dirty

D'Verse Poets Pub hosted by Sarah - Prompt Word - Harbinger

Photo by Ashley Knedler on Unsplash

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Senses of Summer

The scent of gardenias
Floating on late afternoon air
Sweetly fragrant and tender
Nothing can compare

Spanish Moss hanging in dreadlocks
On the old Rastafarian Oak
Summer warmed earth
No need for a hooded cloak

Monarchs fluttering here and there
Squirrels flying from tree to tree
Water trickling over rocks
Babbling stream to the sea

Brightness of tropical flowers
Flourishing in their colorful glory
Dramatic blossoms from lush foliage
For our pleasure contributory

Pelicans gliding above the water
Ready to dive when the moment is right
Something spied for their supper
No time to consider the fish’s plight

Peaceful moments spent on the dock
Boats parading along the water
Music floating across the air
A young couple with daughter

Sun’s rays kissing the skin
Freckling the nose
Walking slowly along the beach
Sand between the toes

Sandpipers scurrying
Avoiding the tide
Children playing
In sand liquefied

Random driftwood scattered
A horseshoe crab’s empty shell
Sandcastles left in ruins
A discarded bathing suit with a story to tell

Treasured moments to keep
In memories deep in time
Almost worth the winter freeze
To sip the last of the summer wine

Christine Bolton – Poetry for Healing ©

In response to Kayla Ann’s End of Summer Poetry Contest:Senses of Summer

Word of the Day Photo Prompt Fragrant

Rag Tag Prompt Play

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Eyes Wide Open

Eyes Wide Open – Week 2

Here are a few photos taken with my iPhone while out running.  I’m making a concerted effort to capture pictures of things I would normally not stop and take in. There is inspiration everywhere in beautiful nature.  My intention is to post some photos at the end of each week.

A big thanks again to Cyranny’s Cove and her After Eight Moments for the inspiration to begin this project.  She has some great photos so be sure to check them out.

I would love to just sit on one of these very

low hung branches in the shade

What a great oak tree to have in your front yard!

 

I saw this Blue Heron just paddling in the pond

 

A beautiful sunset over the Bay

Enjoy your day and keep your eyes wide open!

Christine

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The Old Tower

It was an easy amble along the cliff top until they could see the old tower standing majestically overlooking the cove.

As they approached, the ruins of the old abbey came into full view and the memory of childhood adventures came rushing back, like a tidal wave, into Joanna’s mind.  They were such happy times.  It was always the three of them.  Joanna, Mindy and Steven.  The Three Musketeers – all for one, one for all.  They had been inseparable.  Mindy looked at Jo and they both smiled, knowing each other’s thoughts as if they were their own.  It had always been that way.

The large oak door to the tower was noticeably open as they scrambled up the hill.  The wind whipping their long hair around their faces making it hard to see where they were going and the sun was bright in their eyes.

They could make out a silhouette in the doorway.  At first glance Mindy thought it was Steven and called out his name. There was no response.  As they got closer they could see that it wasn’t. A man, probably around the same age as Steven was smiling at them in a friendly, welcoming way.

“Hello there” he said, holding out his hand.  “My name is Charles Webster and I represent the owner of this property”

Joanna and Mindy stopped in their tracks, surprised and confused.

“What?” Said Joanna.  “I…. l don’t understand”

She continued, “The ruins, and the land it is on, is owned by the village”

“Yes, that’s right”, blurted out Mindy.  “Do you have some identification?

Charles Webster, Solicitor, produced his business card.

“What is going on here?”  Said Mindy. “Are you some kind of shark?”

“This property has been owned by the village of Glen Cove for three centuries.  It would never be sold”

“I’m sorry but it has” Charles Webster contradicted her.

Both Joanna and Mindy were beginning to be visibly upset.  This was supposed to be a happy reunion of the three childhood friends at their most cherished place.  They had played on the ruins of the old abbey for many summers, pretending and dreaming.  Living out fantasies of damsels in distress calling from the top of the tower to the gallant knight down below.  Other times, Steven pretending to be Friar Tuck and the girls taking turns at being Maid Marian or Robin Hood.

Joanna walked away and was silent for a long time.  These were the happiest times of their lives and most likely whoever had purchased the property would raze everything to the ground and build some obnoxious looking, oversized house dominating the coastline.  How could this happen without them knowing?  Why hadn’t their families or someone in the village let them know what was going on?  She realized sadly the only thing that is inevitable is change and if that was the way it was going to be, there was nothing they could do about it.

She walked back to where she had left Mindy and the Solicitor.  “Ok”, said Joanna eventually to Charles Webster.  “Who exactly do you represent?”

At that moment, the large oak door was pulled open and Steven stepped out.

“Surprise!” He said gleefully.  The girls stood there mouths open in shock.

Steven continued, “There was no way this wonderful place was ever going to be sold to a developer.  The village needed the cash and I made sure they got it and their history and our memories are preserved.”

“Charlie and I had you going there for a while didn’t we?” he said wickedly, winking at his friend.  Typical of Steven

The three old friends hugged each other and through their tears of joy they chimed.

“All for one, one for all”

Christine Bolton

Multiple Word Prompts today…..Phew!

Rag Tag Community: Open

Daily Word Prompt: Noticably

Word of the Day Challenge: Amble

Scotts Daily Prompt: Friendly

Fandango One Word Challenge: Memory

Haunted Wordsmith 3 Things Challenge: Tower, Tidal Wave, Shark

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The Reader

Sweet sounds of the mourning dove
The sun filtering through the trees
A clearing full of buttercups and
Daisies fluttering in the summer breeze

You are sitting under the oak
Reading your book so intently
Not noticing my arrival
I observe you patiently

Your hair thick and dark
Glasses on the tip of your nose
Long legs stretched out
Sitting in a comfortable pose

Your book is of course a classic
Catcher in the Rye
You have read it a dozen times
Only you know why

You are in your special place
I do not want to disturb
Happy to be observing you
I will not perturb

Engrossed in your reading
I will watch you for a while
You do not see me
But I am giving you a smile

In nature’s mystical playground
Infused with its energy
I yearn for you from afar
But we can no longer be

I am your past
Gone now from this life
We were once together
When I was your wife

Christine Bolton

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