line of storm clouds
line for parent pickup
line of red cannas
Today was the last day of summer school. Yay! So no more parent pickup for a while. It’s funny that I wrote this last year because it stormed today and my cannas are blooming. My cannas flowers are just now budding out. I have to sprinkle them with Sevin Dust before the Japanese beetles eat them and ruin their beauty. Follow me on Instagram to see what my son said about the last day of summer school.
leaves fall on the ground
brought by a small storm
Autumn in August
Sometimes we get glimpses of the next season today. What did you get a glimpse of this weekend?
This is the last day of August and the last day of the Bloglovin’ contest. Follow me through Bloglovin‘ if you haven’t yet.
Storm of Memories
rain drops fall
down my cheeks
as a storm of memories
pounds my brain
this squall hit quickly
This little piece was inspired by a #heartsmeal prompt on Twitter.
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They are having a contest during the month of August. The top three bloggers who gain the most new followers during the month will be featured on both the Bloglovin’ site and blog! Please help me out by following me on their site. I have a link to them at the bottom of my navigation pane, which is on the left.
I am not afraid of storms for I am learning to sail my ship. –Lousia May Alcott
What will you do this weekend that will get you ready for the next storm?
Here is a Dickinson poem you’ve probably heard.
Leave me a comment below telling me which poem, about hope, is your favorite. Mine is “Footprints”.
“Hope” is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chilliest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of Me.
a change in
the voice of the wind
rain is coming
I can sometimes tell if rain is coming by the smell in the air and the sound the wind makes. It is indescribable, like “makoto” the sincerity, or poetic truth, for which a haiku poet strives.
Have you ever noticed that sound?
Storm Coming In
Like a deer
I can smell the rain
Before it gets here
I feel the electricity building
Looking up at the sky I see
The clouds have darkened
Sunny blue is giving way to
Even the sky is tired of the heat
It voices its annoyance
Through claps of thunder
And cloud to ground lightning
The tension has gotten so thick
That even the sky
Can’t stand it anymore
There has been too much death
Too many ruined crops
Someone had to give us
So the sky cried on us
For a moment
Written during the worst drought, since the Dust Bowl which was in the 1930’s.
Heat/temperature records are being broken all across the United States. How is the heat affecting you?