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Showing posts from September, 2017

15 Words or Less and More

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As Laura, with her 15 Words or Less noticed this week, the maples are "catching on fire".  Flaming reds are starting to appear on parts of the trees.  Her picture shows a spectacular maple, with a spruce tree in the background - and it, to me, looked like the spruce was gazing in awe of the maple's colorful leaves, perhaps a bit jealously.

On our drive to the northern reaches of Maine yesterday, we saw lots of trees starting to change.  I caught one picture that showed the dark green fir trees on one side of the road, and the deciduous trees in their colorful garb on the other.  And I thought this poem could go with that picture also, and added one more.


In Her Shadow
Spruce stands in awe Of Maple’s draw And secretly Desires to be Her Not fir.
by Donna JT Smith
I wonder if the spruce will feel different when it is winter,
and she is the one with a bit of color...

Lost Leaves
Spruce has her day After Maple's array: Her sheen Of green So nice With ice.
by Donna JT S…

A Traded Line

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Today is Poetry Friday, hosted by our Pretty Witty Ditty Lady, Michelle at Today's Little Ditty.

This year my mother's been gone for 14 years, my dad for 16.  They both died in September, so it is a sobering time. Add to it that my father's funeral was on 9/11/01.  We watched the planes as we finished dressing to go to the funeral, all the while wondering if we were safe leaving the house...or safe staying... then deciding it didn't matter.  The world was closed down that day, but I had to keep going.

Then two years later, on September 14, Mom died.  Her funeral was on 9/18/03, the day Washington, DC, was shut down for Hurricane Isabel.  My siblings and I joked about how our parents' deaths were just too much for our country to handle...everything went to pieces when they died.

Every September since 2001 there have been such mixed emotions.  Our wedding anniversary (45 this year) is September 9th.  And of course, it's also the first two weeks of school starting…

Anniversary

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Our 45th Anniversary Today


I will sit in this swing with you and my feet still will not touch the ground. They have not touched the ground since we met.