The Crow's Nest

Today I met myself in a neighbor who just moved in. All I
could say was 'Egads'. It was like seeing something from
Dr. who's world. For a moment I couldn't decide whether
to go in denial or to stand up to my past. The little voice
within said, "Either face it or bury it, but if you choose to
bury it, it will surface again like an old tire in a garbage
dump."

Well, I have been in enough dumps in my time. So I decided
to look at me square in the face. It was not a pretty sight. I saw a person who was disorganized, flighty and judgemental. I said, "All right, all right enough is enough." I'll work on these flaws one at a time. I don't want to blow a gasket.

I decided to start on the bad habit of being judgemental.
that fault has the habit of back-firing. The scripture says,
"Judge not less you be judged." Maybe that is why
bad things happen to me. I guess there is no alternative.
I'll have to do what my little snowman says, 'buck-up'
and get with it.

Christmas Trees

One by one the Christmases passed.
Each Christmas tree was unique.
One year the tree was covered,
With little candles in their holders.
But what a chore to light them all;
Then to keep watch over the tree.

One year I remember, oh so pleasantly.
The tree that was simply decorated.
Aunt Bertha had sent some handkerchiefs;
Enough for six of us girls and then some.
The handkerchiefs were made of white cotton,
With many colorful floral designs on them.

The tree was destined to be beautiful.
Our mother pinned the handkerchiefs,
On the tips of many of the branches.
Each handkerchief was displayed daintly,
Like fairies dancing through the branches.
That christmas was joyous indeed.

Merry Christmas or Happy Holliday.

Well, I am going to fall back on a poem again. I hope you
like poetry as well as I do. I guess winter would be a good subject, so here goes.

Coming of winter

I sat in my rocking chair
By the warm crackling fire.
And knew it had come to pass.
I don't know how it had occured.

I use to wander in the sunlight
And stroll down the garden path,
Smelling the refreshing flowers
And feeling the gentle breeze.

Now, all is very cold outside
And the icy fingers of frost
Are laying the flowers down;
Their fragrance gone forever.

Winter has its predictable way,
Of creeping up on you and me.
The light is getting less and less
And the temperature is dropping.

Now spring has evaporated.
And summer melted away.
Autumn is on the decline.
And winter is about here.

I was waiting for buss 15 right across from Good Sam
hospital and my attention was drawn to the smoke stack protruding up in the sky. Then I noticed the white fluffy
clouds blowing by.

As a child I always enjoyed watching the clouds, while lying
on the bank of the mill stream ditch. It always facinated me how the clouds managed to look like birds and animals.
Today was no different. I could see an elephant with his
trunk held high. I'm sure he was warning us of the
up coming storm. Right behind him was the cutest little
fluffy dog. It was a very wispy cloud. His little bushy tail
kept blowing ever-which-way until he blew all to pieces.

The next cloud was not too impressive so I turned around
to face West and sure enough there was a duck floating in
the water. I could almost hear him say, 'Quack, quack.'
Right behind the duck, with the strech of my imagination,
was a crocodile with a large over-bite. His upper jaw was
quite long. If the crocodile waits long enough, the wind
could lengthen his lower jaw. But then the wind could also
just take his jaw away, then he would be just one big blob.

The buss snuck up behind me and I would have missed it,
if it hadn't been for the people waiting there. That wouldn't have been the first time. Well, that was the end of my cloud watching. I,m sure glad we are not subject to every wind
that decides to blow. But, on the other hand, I am sure
there are those who let the wind called circumstances blow them about.

Since I have been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, I have'nt
got around to writing something worthwhile; so here is a short poem.

BEING ME

The world of a child,
with all it's fantasy,
is a marvelous place to be
but not for eternity.

I must leave behind
all my childish ways
and accept my responsibilities
in this world of mine.

Growing up is painful.
There is no easy route.
Even with the Lord as guide,
we must be tested and tried.