Dog Love

Photo of Sophie by Susan Pittman

Photo of Sophie by Susan Pittman

 

 

Dog Love

When the hurts pile up
and I can’t hold them all,
I retreat to my room
where the tears start to fall.

There she finds me alone,
jumbled up in my bed,
and sorts out my mess
with a nudge of her head.

 

I wrote this poem in response to Rebecca Davis’ challenge to write poems about kindness at Michelle Barnes’ blog Today’s Little Ditty. I missed the end-of-November deadline. Oh well. I can still share it here with you. I hope you enjoy it.

For more Poetry Friday, visit Buffy Silverman at Buffy’s Blog.

Happy Reading,

Liz

Beach Magician

photo-319

photo-319

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beach Magician

With nothing
up his sleeve
but a brainless foot,
this mundane clam
does the ultimate trick:
tipping his jelly bean shell on end,
he disappears
into the sand.

 

We saw these little clams, called coquina, on the beach in Marco Island, Florida over the holiday. Their disappearing trick looked both magical and ridiculous. See?

For more Poetry Friday, visit Irene Latham at Live Your Poem!

Garden Thieves

photo-240 - Version 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Garden Thieves

They come in the night
when I can’t see.
I know they do.
They leave clues for me:

Hyacinth crumbs,
ragged leaves.
Evidence of
garden thieves.

Small round droppings
give them away.
White-tailed deer
have come this way.

I wish I could see them
grazing in my yard.
Silent and wild,
visitors on guard.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved

Message on a Log

photo 2-5

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Message on a Log

Someone’s left a message here,
a swirling, curling missive, clear
in the flesh of this log.

They’ve stripped away the gnarled bark.
They’ve used a blade to leave their mark
in letters I can’t read.

Like hieroglyphs from ancient lands,
or characters by distant hands.
I wonder what it says.

Perhaps it tells where treasure lies.
Perhaps it warns that someone dies.
Or maybe all it says is:
                                     “I was here.”

 

They are probably not so good for the tree, but I do love the beautiful squiggles that beetle larvae leave on wood as they eat their way underneath the bark.

Happy Day 2 of National Poetry Month.

© Elizabeth Steinglass, 2014, all rights reserved.