Father’s Day

611

Sara, Kevin and Katelynn in New Braunfels

Walk with me, Daddy

Walk along side me,
Daddy and hold my little hand.
I have so many things to learn that
I don’t yet understand.

Teach me things to keep me safe
from the dangers everyday.
Show me how to do my best
at home, at school, at play.

Every child needs a gentle hand
to guide them as they grow.
So walk along side me, Daddy.
We have a long way to go.

Author unknown

The Last Day of School

Today is the Last Day of School for Katelynn and Sara. Here is a funny poem I found online:

588

From the book “What I Did on My Summer Vacation”/Illustrated by Stephen Carpenter

The Last Day of School

Summer vacation is starting today.
The teachers are shouting out, “Hip, hip, hooray!”
Our grumpy old principal grins ear to ear
and runs down the hall shouting, “Summer is here!”
The buses come early. (They’re usually late.)
The teachers say, “Hurry up! Pack up! Don’t wait!”
The school bell is ringing. There’s no time to chat.
The whole school is emptied in one second flat.
Everyone’s happy. Our spirits are flying
Except for our parents – they are sulking and crying.

by Robert Pottle

Swan Poem

531

Mute Swan at Josey Ranch Lake

The Swan

Snow white wings flutter,
Shimmering in bright light.
Her body glides gracefully –
A beautiful sight.

The water smooth as glass,
Crystal clear and cool.
Oblivious to the world outside,
She reigns her stately pool.

She spreads her angelic wings,
On misty morning dew,
Then flies away without a sound,
Beyond the sky of blue.

by Sharon K. Shubert

A Sweet Pea Flower Poem

483

Sweet Pea Blossom (Lathyrus odoratus)

Sweet Peas

By helpful fingers taught to twine
Around its trellis, grew
A delicate and dainty vine;
The bursting bud, its blossom sign,
Inlaid with honeyed-dew.

Developing by every art
To floriculture known,
From tares exempt, and kept apart,
Careful, as if in some fond heart
Its legume germs were sown.

So thriving, not for me alone
Its beauty and perfume–
Ah, no, to rich perfection grown
By flower mission loved and known
In many a darkened room.

And once in strange and solemn place,
Mid weeping uncontrolled,
Upon the crushed and snowy lace
I saw them scattered ’round a face
All pallid, still, and cold.

Oh, some may choose, as gaudy shows,
Those saucy sprigs of pride
The peony, the red, red rose;
But give to me the flower that grows
Petite and pansy-eyed.

Thus, meditation on Sweet Peas
Impels the ardent thought,
Would maidens all were more like these,
With modesty–that true heartsease–
Tying the lover’s knot.

by Hattie Howard

Great Blue Heron Poem

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Great Blue Heron at Lewisville Lake

Heron In Moonlight

Full moon shining on a highway of bright sand
luminescent waves gently lapping land.

A slender shadow scarcely visible stands poised to spear
the unknowing crab or fish should one venture near.

Approaching with respectful affection
this phantom hunter melts into dune shadows evading detection.

Backing away this solitary wonder turns to the water break;
waiting for a second take to encounter and kill
sustenance from an elusive sea that gives at will.

by Sue Wolfe

Beltane Poem

444

Blessed Beltane!

Beltane

May day brings a startling sight
Lambs all giddy, skip with delight
Bees are buzzing around the flower
Bunnies hopping in and out the bower

The God and Goddess now are one
the time for mating has now come
The days grow longer, a shorter night
Time to bask in the Sun King’s light

Join in the fun, dance and sing
Forget the cares that worries bring
Now is the time to leap the fire
And attain what you truly desire

Wicker men are set up high
Burnt to send wishes to the sky
May Queens paraded through the town
White hawthorn flower adom the gown

Dancing round the maypole faster
Children prone, in fits of laughter
Ribbons of red and of white
Symbolism of the sacred rite

Beltane brings the passion to grow
To reap the benefits of seeds we sow
Beltane blessings to each one
Blessings from the God of Sun

by Raven Willow Rune

“The Rabbit” Poem

388

Eastern Cottontail Rabbit

The Rabbit

Brown bunny sites inside his burrow
Till everything is still,
Then out he slips along the furrow,
Or up the grassy hill.

He nibbles all about the bushes,
Or sits to wash his face,
But at a sound he stamps, and rushes
At a surprising pace.

You see some little streaks and flashes,
A last sharp twink of white,
And down his hidy-hole he dashes
And disappears from sight.

by Edith King