.jpg)
Portfolio of Poetry
Take Me to the Forest
February 2021
Take me to the forest so I can see,
How a seed becomes a tree,
And how a bee, despite its size,
Can zigzag miles through the skies.
Take me to the forest so I can learn,
How an egg becomes a bird,
And why the leaves, when days grow cold,
Turn from green to red and gold.
Take me to the forest so I can climb,
And learn to face the fears I find.
I want to jump and romp all day,
The way that I was meant to play!
Take me to the forest so I can be,
Like the eagle, wild and free.
I’ll learn to love things great and small
I’ll learn, like trees, to be proud, stand tall.
A child of the woods, I’ll be,
A student of the stars,
I’ll figure out just where I fit,
In this great, big world of ours.
The Magic Laugh
February 2021
Once there was a little boy
With sunbeams in his hair,
Who stepped into some muddy boots
And out into the air.
He turned and gave a little skip,
And then a bigger hop.
He found the biggest, bluest puddle,
Jumped super high and…
PLOPPED!
His laughter was contagious -
Bubbling up from deep inside -
Exploding forth in stars and sparks
From a mouth now opened wide.
He giggled and he wiggled.
He chortled and he howled.
His tummy tickled, his belly jiggled.
His curls bounced up and down!
The magic from that puddle
Seeped into every cell,
And gave that boy the magic laugh
That everyone knows well.
It’s the laughter of the prairie grass -
Of buzzing bees and dragonflies.
It’s found in nearly every brook,
And painted in the summer skies
You can hear it in the whistling wind
Sweeping through the trees,
And see it playing joyfully
In waves of rolling seas.
It’s ancient and its good, Dear One,
And it lives inside of you.
So, pull on your boots and go outside,
And jump in a puddle, too!
Natural Love
February 2021
He is her sky, her moon, and all her stars.
The velvet night that wraps her entirely.
The setting day’s colors that kiss her heart.
Darling, let’s sit here alone, quietly.
See the fireflies dance through silent trees?
Her small fingers point between the branches.
He lies, resting, his head on her knees
As the summer, evening forest romances.
They make no sound; they speak not a word.
The silence of lovers always sweetest;
For then the song of the heart can be heard;
The only song whose meaning sings truest.
He clings to her strength like moss on a tree.
His belief in her has given her wings.