Musing on a Summers Day................

Fluffy little clouds drift by  Summer ends and the seasons fly.  Cooler days are welcome now,  At least by me, but not all somehow.  I love the brisker days of Fall.  Golden wheat is growing tall.  Soon its time to cut the hay,  To save towards the Winters day.  Poppies grow in fields so red,  Reminds me of our valient dead.  Those who gave their lives in war,  Believed that we would fight no more.  But Kingdoms come and Kingdoms go,  It will be forever so. Like the seasons they rise and fall,  Till they hear the Almighty's call.  Tis then they fade in the mists of time.  Following in the grand design.  In my simple life I see,  Things so much greater than me.  He who sees the Sparrow fall,  Is in command of it all. God in His heaven we are blessed, so not to worry about the rest. JKS August 2014

Springtime.............

The wind blows the snow like cobwebs from my mind. I reach for a coat and go out to see what I can find. It's so good to be outside and feel the wind upon my skin. After oh so many months of being trapped here within. Some brave shoots are poking through looking for the sun. Snowdrops, pretty snowdrops a sure sign that Spring has finally begun.  ©Janice Schaub April 2014.

Is it April?........

Is it April?

The sky is grey

A Winters day?

No.......It's really April.

The sky is blue,

It's snowing too.

Yes it is.....it's April.

The sun comes out

But don't cast a clout

It really is only April.

©Janice Schaub

April Dream.........

April moves in like a dream So long we have waited it would seem. April brings a gentle breeze Helps the earth to unfreeze. Gentle rains wash away the snow So Spring flowers can start to grow. Flowers bud and blossoms burst April showers quench their thirst. Rainy days of April so they say Give way to abundant flowers in May. Gentle buds of fruit trees bloom Bursting forth from Winters gloom. Winds of March have briskly scoured  Made all things fresh for Springtime flowers.
 ©Janice Schaub 2014

Sick of bleedin snow........

It's hard to think of Spring, when we are waist deep in snow.

When in blue blazes is this stuff going to go.?

The Robins have come home, and wonder why they did.

Everything they like to eat is buried and is hid.

The bulbs are straining at the earth and can not make it shift.

That's because it's buried underneath a bloody six foot drift.

They say that it is Springtime according to the date.

But I am here to tell you that Spring is bloody late.

I am sick of dirty piles, of often soggy snow.

It's piled so high that it has nowhere else to go.

Oh to see a blade of lovely green grass,

I am sick to death of white and of slipping on my arse.

Excuse my poem for being rude it's due to cabin fever.

Old man Winter this year has been quite the dang deceiver.

The sun comes out and begins the melt

A promice of Spring that seems heartfelt.

Next time I look it's snowing and after that it's rain.

So next it's ice and freezing wind that freezes up the drain.

The roads are all flooded next time we get a thaw,

The snow comes back and settles half way up my door.

Will it end soon, I really do not know

but I am here to tell you I am sick of bleedin snow.

©Janice Schaub March 2014

Little Bells........

The first brave buds slip through the snow

little white flowers the first to grow.

Small they are but sturdy stocks,

little bells like fairy frocks.

Cold and brisk, but sunny day.

Birds in branches noisily play.

Snow is melting, time for Spring.

A sight to make the birds all sing.

Crocus show their pretty heads,

Pushing up in garden beds.

Soon the blossoms will appear,

Then its Springtime that is clear.

Birds are nesting, raising young.

Yes for sure the Spring is sprung.

Is it Spring yet?............

The end of March will soon be gone

and April enters with bird song.

First day of Spring, in the grip of Winter still

I'm looking out the window, the birds still feel the chill.

Huddled by the feeders, their feathers all are fluffed.

They stay in my grapevines until they are all stuffed.

It's time to build their nests, time to raise some young.

But they really can not do that until the Spring has come.

Come on old man Winter its time for you to go.

Wev'e had enough of Winter and sick to death of snow.

©Janice Schaub 2013