RED AND BLUE WAKE UP CALL
Posted: Sun Mar 13, 2011 9:26 am
RED AND BLUE WAKE UP CALL
Dark blue deserts the sky as the red sun creeps on in.
The midnight blue of night time, fades to let the new dawn in
with her icy chilly fingers. She’s wrapped in clouds pink tinged.
Scant light provided by the fingernail of moon up high
and the million twinkling sycophants fast vacating the sky
whilst Kookaburras laugh at everything that they espy
as the sun comes creeping slowly ‘cross the hills.
The sleepy fire is poked – its embers burst once more to flame.
Those ironbark logs lasted well – they surely deserve their name.
Dry pine wood snaps and crackles, the tangy resin hisses
and Pine cones join the chorus – what a noisy fire this is.
The sun on wakening earth begins to bestow warming kisses
and drives out the very last of night times chills.
Small signs of Spring are all around. Grey doe beneath the tree
with a Joey peeping from her pouch, watches us cautiously.
Lambs on hillsides are pronking, and ewes to them are calling
but their lambs just disregard them for life is too enthralling,
the ewes are not impressed with this defiance most appalling,
and head off to water holes to drink their fill.
The wattle blossom erupts in a sweet yellow gold scramble
of frothy egg yolk yellow which across the hillsides ramble.
Bumble bees are gathering natures golden nectar spoil.
Leg sacs full to bursting as around the flowers they toil.
Ants are busy collecting some breadcrumbs from the soil
transporting them to their nests, as they will.
Mugs of hot chocolate steam, where they are kept warm by the fire.
A leather boot pokes at a pile of blankets, to enquire
if there is life within, there is but none is noted
till a pink tongue and wet nose in one fur coated,
delves and finds the one to whom he is devoted,
and a carrot top emerges , laughing still.
Young Blue deserts his swag as Red comes creeping in.
Maureen Clifford © 03/11
To read the free verse version of this poem, "Wake Up Call" (Click here)
Dark blue deserts the sky as the red sun creeps on in.
The midnight blue of night time, fades to let the new dawn in
with her icy chilly fingers. She’s wrapped in clouds pink tinged.
Scant light provided by the fingernail of moon up high
and the million twinkling sycophants fast vacating the sky
whilst Kookaburras laugh at everything that they espy
as the sun comes creeping slowly ‘cross the hills.
The sleepy fire is poked – its embers burst once more to flame.
Those ironbark logs lasted well – they surely deserve their name.
Dry pine wood snaps and crackles, the tangy resin hisses
and Pine cones join the chorus – what a noisy fire this is.
The sun on wakening earth begins to bestow warming kisses
and drives out the very last of night times chills.
Small signs of Spring are all around. Grey doe beneath the tree
with a Joey peeping from her pouch, watches us cautiously.
Lambs on hillsides are pronking, and ewes to them are calling
but their lambs just disregard them for life is too enthralling,
the ewes are not impressed with this defiance most appalling,
and head off to water holes to drink their fill.
The wattle blossom erupts in a sweet yellow gold scramble
of frothy egg yolk yellow which across the hillsides ramble.
Bumble bees are gathering natures golden nectar spoil.
Leg sacs full to bursting as around the flowers they toil.
Ants are busy collecting some breadcrumbs from the soil
transporting them to their nests, as they will.
Mugs of hot chocolate steam, where they are kept warm by the fire.
A leather boot pokes at a pile of blankets, to enquire
if there is life within, there is but none is noted
till a pink tongue and wet nose in one fur coated,
delves and finds the one to whom he is devoted,
and a carrot top emerges , laughing still.
Young Blue deserts his swag as Red comes creeping in.
Maureen Clifford © 03/11
To read the free verse version of this poem, "Wake Up Call" (Click here)