LAKE SUPERIOR SNOWFALL

Early morning snow -
fresh flakes fall gently,
knitting networks
of lace.

Jewel-fluff blankets.

A slightest puff
would pilfer their
myriad connections.

Afar off,
other snowflakes
melt seamlessly into
the immense, leaden lake.

In the quiet
stillness,
a raven
calls.

Early December

Soaring eagle
       slides by in
                the wind.
     
       Grey sky.
                River nearby.

Deferred

                             Deferred

End of November comes
     to northern Minnesota.
An amazingly warm wind
     caresses the tail, tan
           grass-clumps.

Grass that greet
     passersby with
           its graceful wave.

A slight morning rain,
     dampens the green lawn.

My desire is to
     mow the grass -
           one more time . . .

just to say that I
      did it.

But, will defer
      till later
            in the spring.

                       I sure miss
                             real winter.

W h i t e

Cimicifuga
   still in bloom - even though the
        calendar says mid-November.
   It's startlingly sweet fragrance
        commands attention.

When the breeze is just so . . .
   neighbors walk over into our
        garden to
   seek what
        smells that way.

Baneberry's reddish stalks,
   adorned with white eyes and
        tiny black pupils,
   appear to be on the search for
        their former neighbors -

   recently frost-bitten.

Plants with ever-new potential -
        but, at least for now,
    calmly await

        the white flakes of winter.

The Eyes Have It

Thunbergia along the
edges of a Kenyan
jungle where corn
fields adjoin
wilderness.

Peering from
within wild places -
yellow eyes with
dark pupils
return my gaze,
staring back at me.

Each year, I plant
the Thunbergia vines
in the deck planter.
A reminder
of beautiful flowers
in beautiful
places.

A GENTLE WINTER WIND MEDITATION

When will real
winter arrive?

Fall leaves,
reluctant to leave
their branches -
clinging beyond
welcome.

    Leaves, come on now, drop!

Stop hanging around, the
soil needs you - you have
done your bit
for this season.

     Leaves, come on now, drop!

Your chlorophyll has had
its time in the sun -
and has done what it does best.
Petiole's abscission layers
have matured.

      Leaves, come on now, drop!

All that is left is

           to
              be
                  in
                     the
                         moment.

       Leaves, come on now, drop!

Ahh . . . a gentle wind
picking up . . . just now.
More leaves
take flight.

       Leaves, come on now, drop!

I Can't Believe It . . .

I Can't Believe It . . . I Don't Want
to Believe It . . .  No Way !

I tie the lace shoestrings on my two, shiny-black
New Balance shoes every day. And then untie
them again at night. So far, that's nothing out-of-
the-ordinary.

Then, quite curious - I started to do the math.

Starting with the question:
          How many seconds (minutes, hours, days,
          weeks) does that procedure mount up to 
          over the course of an entire year?

So here goes !

    1. In one day, the simple action of tying up
        two shoes consumes 20 seconds.
    2. That means that in one full year (7,300
        seconds in a day)  X's  (365 days in a
        normal year)  it would total to
        122 hours a year.
    3. That calculates to 1,708 more hours of
         tying shoes . . .
                  should I live to 90 !

       So glad I'm not a millipede.

        (Just perhaps, I should wear slip now?)

To Act or Not to Act . . .

To Act or Not to Act . . .

          Away with
               laziness.

                     Exercise.

          Away with
               demons.

                     Exorcise.

Amazing

Amazing
                             (Haiku, 17 syllables)

The North Korean's
very first 5th nuclear test ! ! !
Practice makes  p r e f e c t !

Only Some Are Graceful

           
            Here is a little ditty that has the 
            syllable pattern of    2   4   6   8   2

                It is fun to pick a letter of the 
                alphabet and then choose words
                that fit the pattern.




         ONLY SOME ARE GRACEFUL

                            Gismos
                                Guantanamoes
                          Gristle-laden gizzards
                 Graceful leaping gazelles abound
                                      Gadgets

Always Hope

Much of my life I have been a trouble-maker . . .
even now. Always seeking to "fix things" in  a
world seen as being filled with greed, hatred,
and suffering. It is easy for me to allow external
bitterness and cynicism to wash over me . . . and
I am the one who suffers. I search an anchor to
help my heart and soul be a place of peace and
integrity.

Always, with hope that I can possess compassion
and allow my suffering and anger to melt away.

My Friend the Woodpecker

I told the woodpecker that
     I was in love with you.
I told the woodpecker that
     I was in love with you.

And then
     my woodpecker
            told me
                  what to do.

She said . . .

     Ooo, eee, ooo, ah ah
             pick puck,
            ick a pucka
             puck puck.

     Ooo, eee, ooo, ah ah
           picka pucka
          pooka pooka
             peck peck.

My 75th Birthday Was Yesterday!

        (May be sung to the tune of "76 Trombones")

Two hundred and six
old bones led
the big parade.

With a couple of
patellar knee caps
out in front.

With a hundred and one
wispy-white hairs, still
blowin' in the wind,

who says that
poetry writing
is done !?

So, bring on the pens,
pencils, paper and the
computer pads -
and be sure to
have them
close at hand.

For, here comes another
poem - just
     right-out-of
           the-blue

with words
      heard louder
            than
                 ever before!

A PRAYER AT NELSON MANDELA'S 2013 FUNERAL

Beyond the absence, there is hope.

Beyond the pain, there is healing.

Beyond the brokenness is wholeness.

Beyond the turmoil there is peace.

Beyond the hurting there is heaven.

Beyond the silence, beyond the silence . . .
    God Speaks:
          Be strong, let your heart take courage,
          All you who hope in God. (Psalm 31)

GMC

As a child
my friends and I
had disagreements galore.
Mostly during the long,
hot summer months.
Look at that Good-Made
Chevrolet someone would
holler, as a bright-red pickup
roared past.
(The truck had the letters GMC
boldly emblazoned on
it's engine hood.)

        I knew it stood for
               General Motors Corporation

A Woodland Lesson

I hold, in my cupped hands,
an Ovenbird. I picked it up
from our backyard deck this
morning. I must have collided
with our glass, sliding door . . .
thinking the reflection was an
opportunity to fly into the
clear blue sky. I will keep it
for a while, then bury it in
the perennial, wildflower
garden.






                   A  Woodland Lesson

        An unregal,
                   diminutive creature
                          bearing a subdued,
                                        orange crown -
                          quietly walks along
                                        on forest carpets.

            And,
                   when ready,
                           incessantly
                   calls forth loudly -
                           to whoever
                                 might give heed,


                             Teacher,

                              Teacher, 

                                         Teacher.

MOURNING DOVE

Do I hear a sound to something
           brushing the air overhead?

Could it be a drone?
      No, they keep their distance . . .
                                usually.

This time I hear two!
      Doves stay in twos.

Forever creating feelings.
      Reminders for one to keep a
            subdued presence.

A certain calmness
      for the soul.

And - for how long?
                                  Forever . . .

      Oh, I do,
               
                   do,
             
                       do.
                                               -Dedicated to my
                                                dearest.

Does Fracking Matter?

                        Does tracking and
                             removing oil
                    from under the ground -
                               matter to
                        the environment?
                           You Betcha!

      This is a true story that happened to a friend
            of mine. I won't mention his name.

I was visiting Art at his house. We were standing on the edge
of his black-topped driveway and I noticed many small ant
hills on the edge of the drive and commented on how busy
those creatures were!

He said, Yep, busy as ants they say - twice a day I sweep all
their little piles into the grass. 'Tis a little frustrating.

I commented - "Art.  It could get downright dangerous standing
here. Can't you imagine the big cavern that must be down there?"

Nothing to worry about, Clem . . . they are just little ants . . . 

Two days later the phone rang.  Clem?     "Yes Art . . . "

This morning, I went out to get into the van and the left front
wheel had sunk to its axel.

IT ALL BEGINS WITH A DREAM

I have a plan to begin, in a formal way, to meet with
children, youth, adults, and seniors in order to learn
with them the beauty and ways of nature. This I have
done on my own, or with a select group of acquaintances,
for much of my life.

Now, I wish to do it as part of some organization like
our local nature center.

I am pushed along the path by such people as Henry
David Thoreau, especially after reading the following
passage taken from his Journal entry of November 2, 1860:

         I think it would be worth the while
         to introduce a school of children to 
         such a grove, that they may get an
           idea of the primitive oaks before
         they are all gone. Instead of hiring
          botanists to lecture to them when
         it is too late. Why, you do not now
             often meet with a respectable 
              oak stump even, for they too
                        have decayed.

CLIMATE CHANGE: A Limited Time Offer

Now, here's the deal.

      (We knew it would
                     come to this
                   sooner or later.)

We've got an ever-
       shortening time frame to
              take advantage of
                    this
              once-in-a-lifetime
                    offer.

But,
       we have to
               act
                     fast!
                             This offer
               won't last.

Can't say if it will ever
        be available
               again.

It all does add up.
        and it's time to act !

                              One can always hope . . .

MINNESOTA FAT CAT HAS A THING OR TWO TO SAY

It’s that Day again. Groundhog Day! The Day when the whole country turns to us for wisdom.

But not this year it seems. Instead, the country is focused on IOWA. I know, I know. No one is paying much attention to us groundhogs - or our potential for making shadows.

Along with the rest of you I watched the whole circus last night on TV from the comfort of my burrow. I had stocked up on some of my favorite foods – lots of dark chocolate (it’s a myth that us animals mustn’t eat chocolate). And dill pickle potato chips and grape soda.

Actually, I had a secondary motive for stocking up. I had listened to the weather predictions and wanted to be sure I had enough provisions to tide me through.

Now, those Iowa shenanigans. I thought about traveling to Iowa to stand in line so I could cast my vote. But my cousin Phil in Pennsylvania texted me and said that was ill-advised. He had tried to do so four years ago and had gotten nowhere, but left out in the cold.

The best I understand the whole thing, is that there is this entertainer guy with hair who thought he would win. Then there is this hard-right Tea Party guy who did win. I think it was because he promised that if he was elected President, his Mrs. promised to restore French fries in school lunch programs. Michelle must have hurumphed at that one.

The guy with the hair, who is married to an immigrant with a lovely accent she didn’t learn here, says the winning guy can’t be Prez because he was born in Canada. After all Obama was born in the foreign country of Hawaii – where I don’t think any groundhogs live. Oh, I could go on and on. But I am already tuned in to New Hampshire.

And now that shadow stuff. I slept in so I was a bit slow to stick my head out of my burrow. Yikes! It was snowing. Big wet flakes. No question about seeing anyone’s shadow. So I returned to the comfort of my burrow and pulled up a documentary from Netflick.

Given how the winter has gone here this year (easy), I would have predicted an early spring anyway - without the bother of sniffing the outside. Now for Punxsutawney Phil, it's a different story. Those folks out East are yearning for spring to come. Philadelphia even managed more snow than DC and NYC in the latest round.

I would have suggested Phil come and spend a few months here, but he had already texted me that he was heading south after he did his shadow-duty today. He has already packed his swimsuit and sunscreen. Eager to go and soak up some rays!

THERMOCLINE

Early in a year's life . . .
a far northern lake's
water becomes frigid
and sinks to
find refuge
in the depths.

Eventually, springtime's
newly warmed surface
water, and the wind,
stirs up the deep,
nutrient-laded water.

Now -
nearing the surface,
the warmed water
nurtures a bloom
of new life.

The profusion of life
feeds the soul.

Being alive . . .
is always to be open
to being warmed
and stirred.

It is good to be open
to the light.

Stay open to seasons
of new creativity.


Inspiration for this poem
arrived during a morning
meditation on the day
following the Winter Solstice
of 2005.

OUR LIVES BEGIN TO END

Our lives begin
   to end
      the day 
         we become silent
   about
      things that matter.
                                       MLK, Jr.


I will never ever forget
walking just behind MLK
in the March on Washington.
                       -Clem Nagel