Author: Maria Johnson

#100Poems: Number17

I sat alone reading a book
In the afternoon Light.

The wind blowing gently
Through the trees
Stirred the new leaves
Into expressing their Joy
As a dance of Shadows
And Sunbeams.

A late afternoon Ballet
Across my lap as I sat
By the open window
Reading my book.

#100Poems: Number14

I parked by the street today —
intent on getting my 10,000 steps.
Or is it 8,000?
It doesn’t matter.
I’m not going to do it anyway.

I let the motor idle with the A/C still running
while a favorite song plays.
My eyes wander over to the man at the bus stop.

He’s old.
Old in that way that reminds me
of weathered sepia-colored prints
from the early 20th century.

His coat is a nondescript brown.
So are his pants.
And he wears a hat. Not a ball cap.
A hat.

He sits patiently. Waiting.
A modern still life in the city.

Suddenly, he reaches down by his feet
where a crack in the sidewalk hosts
a collection of weeds.
He plucks a baby dandelion from the debris,
yellow, and full of life,
and sticks it in his faded lapel.

thunderstorms

IMG_4912

Took a little trip to get some info and a bit of a break, but encountered some foul weather. An angry ocean is never wasted on me — I like a good storm. Unfortunately, it raged until mid-morning, so this week’s challenge, to catch the early bird morning light…well…it was delayed. The birds stayed away, too.

#100Poems: Number Ten

happy-hopper
treat-begger
hurdle-jumper

joy-bringer
slobby-kisser
blanket-hogger
toy-shredder

squirrel-chaser
laugh-maker
peace-shaker
tail-wagger

who else but
Otis

#100Poems: Number Nine

“Rain, rain, go away,”
said the little boy.

Harrumph went the old man.
“It’ll just come back another day.”

#100Poems: Number Seven

Distraction kept me
from noticing the scene outside my window —

Green.
Everything green with new life.

It’s hard to imagine
a world that just
yesterday
sagged under dead leaves
and the colorless pall
of a long winter.

And now —

life.