Our lungs are all buddies

Fritillaria sewerzowii Green_15-2 [1024x768]

Photo by Mike Flemming 2015 copyright.Published with permission

She wanted to come up with a mnemonic
For remembering the form of a sonnet
She cried AB twice CD
CD,EF twice ‘fore G.
For GH is the last couplet,innit? .

She wanted to write for the dummies
Whose speech veers from f*ck to cor l*mmy.
Vernacular they call it
to which we cry,no sh*t,twit
My eyes, like my cup, are now r*nny.

Mirth seems to rise from my studies.
As the breath rises up from our bodies.
Our breath mingles each day
From your way to my airway.
Our lungs, if not minds, are all buddies

Enrich darkness with our gifts

From the sun, low in the sky,
Light falls slantwise to my eyes.
Trees bud, though invisibly,
Nothing that our eyes can see.

Bulbs shoot up from dark cold soil
Where worms and beetles quietly toil.
We take for granted air and sky,
Love the birds we see fly by.

But who can love the worms and slugs
And those creatures we call bugs?
So in our dark cold winter time,
Praise these creatures in the grime.

Without these worms, our crops would die.
No cornfields here for us to lie,
Amidst the poppies’   wild red  blooms.
So we forget all winter’s gloom
.

Praise the snails and bees and ants
For these and spiders, let’s give thanks.
As the lightness needs the dark,
From darkness come life-giving sparks.

Enrich darkness with our gifts.
Look not always to the swift.
Slow and patient like these worms,
Nature’s lowness is my theme