Annette W. Bromley

FOR THE LOVE OF DANDELIONS

In the yard the yellow manes of dandelions

are bobbing gaily on the breeze

but most of the time I see them

as a troublesome bunch of weeds

trying to take over

my tiny piece of land

but they are quite another thing

when in my little grandson's hand,

a bouquet with hugs and kisses

and he says he loves me a lot

and I know he does and I love him...

And dandelions in a salad or steamed up in a pot,

once I've chased them down and captured them,

become a very tasty springtime treat,

a gift from God and Mother Nature,

the entire plant is good to eat...

And a dandelion gone to seed,

it's more fun to pick them then,

with just a little huff and puff

white fluff blows on the wind.

Oh those dandy lions

with their bright yellow manes,

they're stalking 'round my yard again

and up and down the lane,

it seems, pride upon pride of them

and all my effort is in vain,

trying to get rid of them.

Each Spring they come back again.

I suppose I don't really mind them,

sometimes I think they're grand,

especially when they're a bouquet

in my little grandson's hand.

DANCE OF THE WILLOWS

Bowing gracefully toward dawn

a stand of willow trees

waltzed to the music borne of Spring,

dancing with the breeze

there along the river bank

as the river murmured on its way,

happy to be free again

beneath the willows sway.

To and fro the willows waltz

to the songs the sweet birds sing.

How gracefully the willows dance

the dance that welcomes Spring.

THIS APRIL DAWN

This morning as the day broke

the sky smiled crystal clear,

radiant with sunshine,

April and Spring were here.

As sunlight stretched out through the trees,

down the hills, across the lawn

a feathered choir tuned up

then earth resounded with their songs,

glad to be home, glad it is Spring,

they welcomed April dawn.

It seemed they sang so joyfully

I couldn't stay indoors

so I dressed and ventured through the yard,

procrastinating chores

I knew would still be waiting

once I chose to return

but for now I sought a glimpse of Spring,

of fiddlehead and fern

and the first bright rainbow colored crocus

peeking through the thawing ground,

the red-wing blackbird and the robin,

whoever else was homeward bound

from their winter vacation,

Winter, it seems, has past

this April dawn lilting with joy

and Spring has sprung at last...

And so I took the day to venture out,

leaving behind my chores

just to welcome Spring myself

in the great out-of-doors

resurging now with life anew,

the earth was giving birth,

to rejoice in the miracle

of Spring come again to earth.

The earth was suddenly awake

and the trees all seemed to sing.

Forsythis blossomed in gold

this early dawn in Spring

and its bright golden petals

seem like kisses from the sun

and the sparrows song seems sweeter

in the dawn now Spring has sprung

and it seemed to me the perfect day

to spend some time outdoors

to see what might be popping up

fromn the fields and forest floor,

to look for pussywillows,

check on the fiddleheads

and though I have a dozen things to do

I chose outdoors instead.

Dawn dusted morning clouds away

then spread a gorgeous blue

and the sun was warm and wonderful

as it came smiling through.

I could almost hear the grass grow

and the buds burst on the trees,

see tiny blossoms waking up

and the stretching out and up of leaves

as from their winter naps they woke,

stretched up and seemed to yawn

in the warmth of springtime

that shone this April dawn

and spread across the April sky

the most heavenly shade of blue

with just a whisper of a breeze

and a wispy cloud or two...

an absolutely perfect day

to venture out-of-doors

and no more perfect reason

for procrastinating chores

and being very thankful

for my country way of life.

This April dawn and springtime

makes my life so very nice

and I feel so very blessed

to know a life this good,

so close to God and Mother Nature

o'er hill, valley, fields and woods.

RAINDROPS AND BREEZES

The soft, gentle rain like music plays

on my roof and windowpane

and a breeze is gently playing

the windchimes again

and rippling so softly

through the boughs of trees

and it seems the leaves and raindrops

are both dancing merrily

to a springtime melody

and the soft pattering of rain

seems to me a most sweet song,

playing lightly on the roof and pane,

such a gentle, soothing rhyhmn,

a sweet whisper of a breeze

washes away frustrations

and the tiredness from me

as I'm caught up in the music

makes me feel so springerly,

somehow rejuvenated,

somehow refreshed again,

Ah yes, soft breezes, gentle raindrops

on my roof and windowpane,

'tis a gray and breezy afternoon

but I love the sound of dancing rain.

AND I WENT WALKING

I'd had the most frustrating day.
Whatever could go wrong, went wrong.
Out of sorts, out of my mind,
my whole being longed
for some solitary peace and quiet...
sick of debating, useless talking,
reasoning out of control,
I slammed the door behind me
and I began to stroll
aimlessly, I had to get away,
and I went walking...

I went walking in the late day
along a wooded path,
through the meadow to the knoll
where I sat and watched the daylight pass
to evening and the twilight,
watched the sun go down,
just to find a tranquil moment
and listen to the sounds
of nature all around me.
I could not take my world any more,
I'd absolutely had enough,
needed to find one thing,
one thing to be thankful for.
I needed to soothe my ruffled feathers,
to recenter my being,
get away from the confusion.
I desired birds joyful singing,
the sound of rustling leaves,
the peaceful murmurs of a stream,
something, anything to settle me.
All my springs were wound up tight.
My buttons had been pushed
and for just one tranquil moment
was my deepest, fondest wish...

And sometimes when we wish for things
wishes do come true;
as I sat, picking petals off of daisies,
not knowing what else to do.

I've never seen a greater sunset,
gold and ruby on violet blue
mixed with streaks of gold like ribbons,
I really was impressed...
Nor heard birds sing more sweetly,
nor felt a breeze more a carress.
Above it all, soft, white, feathery clouds
seemed lightly brushed with amethyst
and haloed in the purest gold...

And I slowly felt a flowing calm
and I felt blessed.
The earth seemed so at peace and still
and as the stars began to peek
and sparkle in the evening sky,
some of that peace rubbed off on me.

I sighed and put the day behind me,
its problems, more trouble than they're worth,
walked off pent up frustrations
and found at least a touch of mirth
in the splendor, in the awe
a passing day can stir.
I find I'm happiest and most content
when I walk with God and Mother Earth.

RAIN ON THE RIVER

Rain pattered down upon the leaves,
dripping off the boughs of trees
in pitter-pats upon the ground,
making a light drumming sound.

Below the trees the river sang
and from the boughs that overhang
the river's edge along the wind,
the raindrops all were keeping time,
in tune with the river's song,
pitter-patting right along.

Drops seemed to dance upon the waves,
seems on this gray and rainy day,
sang patter-pat on fallen logs
and now and then an old bull frog
would call out with a chug-a-rum,
sounding like a big bass drum.

Rain on the river played a song
and the river just kept moving on,
rippling in rythmic waves,
sweet music for a rainy day
as all along the river's wind
raindrops pitter-pat in time.

RUNNING THE RAPIDS

Sailing along the river
on a balmy, sunny day,
the sun dancing on the water
in a beautiful display
of sparkling light and soft reflections,
like the world turned upside-down,
the river so smooth and peaceful...

Then comes that rushing sound
that fills me with apprehension,
an excitement, my heart pounds
as we approach the raging rapids.
Our chatter becomes hushed
at the sight of the white water
swirling, churning, rolling in a rush
through the river narrows
as we dare white water currents,
spellbound with anticipation...

And in less than a moment
the river picks up speed
and so does our makeshift
craft and we...
then that surge of adrenalin,
hearts racing rapidly,
as we're lurched, lunged,
plunged and nearly capsised
but only momentarily.
We move quickly and we think fast
as we're pulled and lunged towards rocks
and huge boulders to get past,
dipping, tipping, turning,
drenched head to toe by waves and mist,
yelling, screaming out directions, warnings,
no thrill much greater than this,
trying to hold a steady course,
one fore, the other aft
with the white water thundering
all around our tiny raft...

Then almost as quickly
as our venture began,
we'd made it through, our breath released
as we were nearly thrown around the bend
into the calmer waters
with just a ripple now and then.

'Tis one exhilerating ride,
running white water rapids,
fun, a little scarey, yes,
but the venture, it was splendid.

VENTURING AMONG THE WILLOWS

June breezes ripple along the brook
where willow boughs swing robins
in places where the early spring
rocked silver kittens pawing
at the golden rays of sunshine
from their tiny willow cradles,
popping out to frolic,
just as soon as they were able,
with the dancing butterflies,
returned and flitting on the breeze...

Now blueflag is blossoming
beneath the willow trees
with the arrowroot and pickerelweed
and the cat-o-nines.
The damselflies join butterflies
now it is summertime.

The red-winged blackbird 'ching-cha-ree's
and the sparrows sing their songs
while toads and frogs and crickets
all sing happily along.

Bees zoom from flower to flower
to sip the nectar up
and tiny little ladybugs
drink from the buttercups.

There's the constant drone of dragonflies
as they hover in the sun.
A pair of otters on the bank
seem to be having fun
doing their silly antics
as they slide in with a splash...

I found a little mouse nest
made of twigs and leaves and grass
in the Y of some willow boughs,
almost missed it as I passed,
there among the willows
that grow beside the brook.

There's so much to see and hear
if we take the time to look
and listen to the sounds of nature,
oh, I could write a book
about the fascinating wonders
of my ventures 'long the brook...

And here among the willows
in the dark of night,
a thousand tiny fireflies
light up their little lights
and twinkle like the heavens
all glittery, sparkley bright...

There is so much in nature
in which I find delight.

IN THE MEADOW GARDEN

A garden is a holy place,
I think, 'cause God walks there
giving every little seed
His tender, loving care.

God walks there in the morning
where He sprinkles morning dew
on the violets and the daisies,
queen-annes-lace and asters too.

God walks there in the noontime
spreading out the sun,
shedding heavenly warmth and light
on every single one

of the lovely flowers
that in the meadow grow
and carresses them with breezes
that oh so gently blow.

He sends the soothing rain showers
falling from the sky
and entertains the flowers
with dancing butterflies.

God cares for every living thing
that in the garden grows,
the morning glory, the dandelion,
the chrysanthemum and rose...

The buttercups and columbine,
the lilies of the field,
everything the garden
in the meadow yields.

God walks there in the evening
where he pauses, sits and rest
and I think the meadow garden
is three times heaven blest.

I love walking through the garden.
It is such a peaceful place to be
and it seems as I stroll through the meadow
God walks along with me.

Perhaps it's just the breezes
rippling the grass
but somehow I feel like God, himself
sometimes is walking past

And calling me to follow,
to enjoy this lovely scenery
that by His Word He created,
seems sometimes just for me...

Because He knew I'd love it,
love strolling through the fields.
It may seem a silly notion
but sometimes it's just how I feel.

All nature fills me with amazement,
every cloud, rain, sun, snowflake, flower and leaf
and I believe the meadow garden
substantiates my faith, trust and belief.

A garden is a holy place.
I've known God walking there,
felt His presense all around me
and I can see how much He cares.

SPRING AGAIN

Once again earth is bathed in sunshine,
showered by gentle rain,
gowned in soft petal colors
and it is Spring again.
Rainbows arch above us,
God's promises to bring,
to give us hope for each tomorrow
while birds their joyful praises sing.
The earth grows green and fresh and new
and it is Spring again.

Winter fades into puddles
that reflect skies crystal clear,
the rivers dance and laugh again
and Spring, yes Spring is here.

Oh Spring, 'tis such a lovely season,
no more glorious days than these
when lilac plumes crowd each branch for room
and Oh! Pure splendor now are appletrees,
orchards a blizzard of white blooms,
a sweet blessing wafting on the breeze
as blushing pink, the petals lightly strewn,
on gentle wind are puffed and blown,
seeming in the distance
like a late fallen snow.

Oh Spring! Yes, Spring is here,
a season of ten thousand blessings,
does the springtime appear.
'Tis Spring,Oh glorious springtime,
a splendid time of year.

OFFICIAL PROCLAIMATION

What a gorgeous day for walking,
walking through the village
by the river, laughing, free
with a few little ice floats
bobbing merrily...
The sun is shining brightly
and it is fifty-four degrees,
some snow, just patches, muddy,
there's a warm and gentle breeze...
Maybe today, maybe, it may be,
I'll just have to wait and see...
And I'm anticipating,
watching not so patiently
for the official proclaimation
that Spring has really sprung...
Pussywillows peeking
out of their brown husk homes,
gaggles of geese all northward bound,
honking, flying in a vee
and hope on hope the redwing
will sing out its 'ching-cha-ree',
those joyful notes along the river,
Oh how I long to hear it sung...
the official proclaimation
that Spring has finally sprung,
and the cold, icy days of winter,
that its season is now past.
There's a near sense of jubilation
that Spring has come at last.
You can feel it all around you,
a vibrance in the air...
and then, Oh yes! I hear it,
see him in the willow tree,
redwings flashing in the sun
and that joyful 'Ching-cha-ree'.
'Oh welcome home you lovely bird,'
and I'm all but dancing down the street.

PETAL STORM

Just beyond the pasture fence

where the wild pasture apples grow

in an abandoned orchard

seems the ground is white with snow,

soft white petals falling

like snowflakes in the sun,

a snowstorm in the midst of Spring

and Oh! What a fragrant one.

NATURE WALK IN SPRING

Today I walked the trails with glee,

through the woods, across the lea

and took some time to pause and see

birds, butterflies and bumblebees,

hear the lovely songs birds sing,

watch butterflies dancing on wing

and the bumblebee, feared not its sting

and I so enjoyed everything...

in the meadow saw two doe,

in trees watched squirrels dart to and fro,

chipmunks pop in and out of holes

in an old stonewall,

inhaled the lovely fragrance there

of appleblossoms in the air,

this day, sunshine bright and Oh, so fair

and there were violets blooming everywhere.

I took in everything I could

and thought this day much more than good,

left only footprints where I stood

and where I wandered through the woods

where the trees grow Oh so tall.

I watched a fieldmouse skitter 'round,

saw a woodchuck, furry brown,

pop up then back into the ground

and I sat and watched the sun go down

in a radiant blaze of glory.

I watched the moon rise o'er the hill

as pond peepers peep, began to trill,

heard the call of a whip-o-will,

my nature walk an awesome thrill

among God's created wonders.

OH WHERE IS MERRY MAY

It's another chill damp and gray morning,
seems a yesterday repeat
as rain trickles down my windowpane
and splatters on the street.
'Tis May. almost the end of it.
We've seen few sunny days,
a little strange for this time of year,
for the merry month of May.

Usually there is sun and flowers
by the time that May gets here,
days balmy warm and oh so sweet,
days pleasant, that brim with cheer,
butterflies and appleblossoms,
the roses all in bud,
lilac boughs heavy with plumes
but this year seems mostly mud
and that the year is dawdling,
Spring somehow left behind.
Rain turned to sleet and then to hail
and it is almost summertime.

The daffodils and tulips
all droop their lovely heads
and there is not one single seedling
sprouting in the flower beds,
only hothouse flowers
dying in sight of a week.
It's another chill damp and gray morning,
a yesterday repeat.

It leaves me feeling moody,
moaning with arthritic pain,
hurting from my head to toe
in this chill damp gray and rain...

And I was sitting by the window,
agonizing the gray facts,
watching the river running wild
when I heard a bunch of quacks,
saw them bobbing on the waves,
those silly ducks were back...
swimming, dipping, diving, splashing,
just as happy as can be
and watching them, I had to laugh,
caught the giggles in spite of me.

The ducks were playing in the rain.
They were not missing anything,
didn't even seem to care
that the sun was not shining,
that it was fourty-five degrees,
that last night we'd had sleet and hail.
They seemed to enjoy the river wild,
flew in with a splash and sailed,
swimming, dipping, diving,
quacking joyously,
happy, despite this dreadful weather,
and it rubbed off on me.

I'd watched them for near an hour
as giggles came in bursting bubbles
'til I'd had enough of moping
and went walking in the rain, through puddles
and I didn't care who saw me,
who may think I've lost my mind...
I had to put some merry back in May
and when we seek we find.

I walked a couple miles, I guess,
and the exercise gave some relief
I'd craved for from this constant pain...
Ask and ye shall receive---
And my spirits lifted,
despite the chill damp gray,
the rain, the mud, the puddles.
I'd found some merry still in May.

FROM THE FARSIDE OF THE LEA

Where the meadow turns to marsh

on the farside of the lea,

'tis lovely in the springtime,

lovely as can be.

From the little pond that's there

comes an evening symphony

heard on those warm country nights,

seems so happily

the sound of peepers singing

and now and then a bass drum sound

fills the evening air,

the chug-a-rum of bullfrogs

who are also living there,

there among the cat-o-nines

where too the blueflag grows...

And fireflies like fallen stars,

their little lanterns all aglow

seem to dance to the music

coming from the farside of the lea.

On these warm country evenings

is heard a lovely symphony.

The symphony of nature,

coming from the farside of the lea,

so lovely and so peaceful,

the earth in harmony.

BENJAMIN'S SPICE

Come Spring along the upper banks
of the pasture stream is seen
the fragrant, yellow blossoms
of the Spice of Benjamin
that blossoms with forsythia
before the leaves grow green
and wafts its fragrant allspice scent
through the early Spring time air
and I can hardly wait 'til Spring
to see it growing there.

As the days grow warmer,
there too will be the quail
and both the quail and I
will each in turn assail
the aromatic spice bush
for its berries and its leaves
but for now we have to wait around
for the Winter snow to leave.

It won't be very long though,
until wafting on the breeze
will come the spicey fragrance
from along the pasture stream
of the aromatic blossoms
of the Spice of Benjamin
with its golden yellow blossoms,
allspice fragrance in the air...
Oh I can hardly wait to see
the spice bush blooming there.

Oh what a lovely gift of Spring,
God on us does bestow,
along the upper pasture stream
where Benjamin's Spice grows.

THE LOVELINESS OF SEASONS

The Winter world seems to luminesce
in its crown of silvery white
and despite the bitter, cold wind,
slippery streets of ice,
it is awesome in its beauty,
a crystalline delight...
But after months of bitter cold,
snow, ice and freezing rain
there is a sentimental longing
for Spring to come again.

Spring time and the thawing,
warm sun, a gentle breeze,
rebirth on earth, season of new life
when again the earth grows green.
The skies are azure splendor
with light fluffs of cottoncandy clouds,
myriads of rainbow blossoms,
Spring, so graciously endowed
with the wonders of creation
from the moment Spring begins,
unscorched by Summer's heatwaves,
not hampered by Winter's frigid winds...

And Summer, dressed in jade and emerald,
a jeweled season dancing in the gold
radiance of sunshine,
sometimes so hot and humid,
would seem a blessing, Winter's cold
but Oh! the miles and miles of meadows
that breezes wave like emerald seas
with clumps and clumps of daisies
that appear whitecaps to me
on imaginary oceans
to dash through, romp and play.
There's not much I enjoy more
than a lovely Summer day
to enjoy with fascination
the butterflies and bees,
the songs the birds are singing,
seems from boughs of every tree,
balmy nights of moon and starlight,
and glittering fireflies
that sparkle through the meadows
like stars fell from the sky...

Then Autumn seems to crackle in
on the edge of thunderstorms
that combust the hills to flaming colors,
days aren't so humid, quite so warm,
the emerald fields turn golden,
now abundant with harvest,
Oh! the splendor that is Autumn
when earth and man are richly blessed...

Then it seems near overnight
earth settles down to rest,
leaves fall making a coverlet
where little creatures snuggle to keep warm
and the fields and forest
start looking gray and old and worn
and a chill wind comes blowing in
out of the north one night
and Winter is again upon us,
shedding its luminescent light