Tag Archives: Beetle

Ode to Autumn (day 1931)

When I was a little lad
I can remember quite vividly
How I’d run around in wool:
Jackets, mittens, and a toque.
Rosy cheeks would rush between
Piles of raked leaves
Exploding as a shaggy dog may
Tongue half way to the ground.
I remember putting my nose
Pressed right to the ground,
Smelling dirt and grass
And observing in minute detail
Leaves turning from green to brown
Crackle them along veins
Once so vibrant, so alive, fresh
Now so similar to the dirt
Squished between my fingers.
Bugs, beetles..
Busy in the dizzying mirth
Of all such decay.
Here, I would stay,
Madly fascinated with stacked flower pots
Textures of clay now everywhere!
From where did they come?
Every Autumn was fun,
Preparation everywhere,
Chopped logs and canning jars,
Hockey sticks and Halloween,
Snow banks and toboggan pulls.
I can remember the dying sun.

In This Grove (day 1390)

At times, in this grove,
Wild ducks wander by.
Waddling and posing
With tourists bustling by.
Some come for tulips
That sprout mid January,
Some come to feed ducks
Leftover crusts from their bread.
When mid-summer heat
Comes beckoning in,
Ducks make like rabbits
And scoot to cool ponds,
Where bugs and beetles
And minnows and reeds
Grow with abandon
In the glorious green.
Long sweeping willows
Tickle edges of the pond
With leftover foliage
Drifting on and again.
So summer to autumn
Leaves flowers drooping on,
Squirrels busying stores
For the onslaught of snow.
Freezing and dusting
Elements of the sky
To a mountain so high,
Silently sleeping,
Awaiting the thaw.

Snapping Swiggleworms for Mr. Figglehorns (day 663)

Snapping frustrations and beetle bug-off-alis
I’ve come to the end of my rope!
I’ve chewed all these trees
And felled a great home
Just to lose it all to a mouse!
The Mrs can’t stand it
Won’t sleep for a wink
With that vermin’s scratching work at night
Start over again?!?
This ones gone on so well!
I’ve even built us two tiny windows!
The Mrs, you know ladies
Loves the window for sunsets…
Front door’s been painted
Kitchen’s been reno’d
My shed! Five years, it’s nearly complete!
Oh, I’ll get that there mouse
I’ll find him at last
Even if it takes me straight to the grave

aBeaverMr. Figglehorns can be purchased here.

Prose or Drawing (day 41)

As the clouds roll grayly over the tips of the trees
A flower sprouts out, distorting my gaze
Lime green shoot with delicate leaves off
Yellow petals catching little rays of sunshine
In spite the meandering clouds

And a bird, sweep and sway as it goes
Following a path neither you nor I see
The lazy sound of rolling tires
Pressing heavily along the solid cement
Easily making out the cars that hit that evil pothole

But the cedar hedges all look sharp
Neatly cut last night with a dull pair of snippers
I know because I heard it happen
They cried the whole night too
Now, they look pretty and blue

Upon closer inspection of the ground I lay
A beetle crawls away, weaving a slow path
Destined for a head on collision with
That squirmy ant I see over there
Maybe they’ll become friends with one another

In all the sights I hear on my perch
All the animals I know do roam
I feel of them all luckiest to be
The one with the freedom
The voice to be me