Laura Sanders

I fish out the tree, all unclothed and bare,
it looks like a nude person, with nothing  to wear!
One by one the shiny baubles dangle,
and the tinsel is unboxed, it's all in a tangle!

Further objects are selected, snowmen, Reindeers, handmade Elves.
Boxes are explored and the contents are delved.
The lights are the crescendo, they are coiled in a knot,
but do they work?  I expect they do not.

By now an array of cardboard boxes, have collected, around.
Some ornaments are on dusty shelves, lying around.
But now for the grand finale, the lights to be switched on, below!
I pull down the switch, for the lights to glow...

But nothing happens, I cuss- it was the "duff" set.
so I unravel another lot, hoping they are a better bet.
Is it all worth it, I ask myself, feeling beat?
But the tree shines out and looks a real treat!

.

I feel like I am a little sea horse,
alone in a choppy sea.
The waves push and shove me about,
the waves sweep over me!

I bob up and down, hoping
I'll  stay afloat.
But I sink, when I try to swim,
like an upturned, wooden boat!

I try to get my head
above the aqua sea.
Who will come to my aid though?
Who will rescue me?

Sharks are circling around out there.
Waiting to shred me to bits!
Blood lust they home in on,
if I do not show some grit!

Tough like an old Barnacle shell,
and don't show my softer side,
but I just want to clamber inside
and hide, hide, hide.

But I am only like a little sea horse,
swimming up and down all day long.
Swimming sometimes against the tide,
know I must keep battling forever on...

Autumn leaves dance gaily around,
they swirl in a haze towards the ground.
Auburns, golds, russets, too,
offering different shapes, differing hues.

The wind picks up and blows the trees.
The foliage is carried from the canopies.
Fine English Oak and Beeches shed all to the land.
Maples and Sycamores add to the dance.

Falling, falling with the season's formation,
picking up speed, they collect for soil fermentation.
Witnessing the act brings happiness, delight,
but it can also be a sobering, somber sight.
Winter will at last be on its way.
The cold, icy blast will freeze leaves well away...

A mother is someone who cares,
Someone who will readily share.
Who tries to bandage up cut knees,
Who likes to give and to please.

A mother is someone who smiles a lot.
A mother is someone who gives all she's got.
She loves to make others smile,
Tries to go that extra mile...

A mother like this is a rare gemstone.
With a mother like this, you'll never feel alone,
For a mother can be your best friend,
Caring, sharing, pleasing to the very end.

Bright, yellow gold, spangles the green.
Brazen and beautiful, they are so clearly seen.
Obtrusive and yet they are a welcoming sight.
Denoting early summer's arrival of warmth and light.

Yet their boldness does not last,
as into wind-blown parachutes, they change fast.
Blown by lips, and through landscape sun-kissed,
the delicate fairies dance and on breezes drift.

Attaching to everything lying around.
Self-seeding survival for next year bound.
The gardeners "poison," seen as a ruinous blight,
Leaves to the rabbit are a juicy delight.

To bees and butterflies, they're a nectar feast.
Dandelions, golden suns, will to me always please.