i like to make

things out of wood

i never really

thought i could

but i have help

my inchworm friend

who carries out

the measuring end

he scoots along

then parks his butt

to show me where

to make my cut

but he’ll become

a moth someday

he’ll feel his oats

and fly away

and on that day

he does escape

i’ll have to buy

a measuring tape


–photo by me

High Noon

final shrooms

In the middle of our supper,

The night fell with a thud,

Splattering gravy everywhere.

Smokey licked most of it up,

But the damage was done,

And it stayed dark all night.

Then, at breakfast, the day

Suddenly broke overhead,

And our corn flakes went

Flying in every direction.

Again, Smokey cleaned it up,

But the damage was done,

And the day stayed broken.

For lunch, we went out to

The pasture to eat more of

The mushrooms we’d found

There a few days before.

Suddenly, Smokey pointed

Up at the sun, and yelled,

“It’s high noon! Hit the deck!”

But the damage was done

And we stayed high all day.

Cold-hearted Wind


A bold, cold-hearted wind

Slipped discreetly into town;

He was out to look for victims,

And he fast came swooping down,

But he ran into a snowdrift,

So curvaceous and fair,

That he caught her in his icy grip

And threw her in the air.

And ’round and ’round they whirled

In the closest kind of dance;

He had swept her off her feet

With his whirl-wind romance.

She hoped he’d never let her go,

She really thought he’d stay–

‘Til he dumped her on a rooftop,

Blew her off, and flew away.



–Getty Images

They Say

talkers final

Now they say that

There’s no rhyme for silver,

And they say that

There’s no rhyme for orange,

But I’ve petted

A bleating young chilver,

And in high school

I studied a sporange.

So they say that

What is often isn’t,

And they say that

What isn’t often is,

So I guess that

What isn’t isn’t isn’t,

And what is isn’t

Is isn’t is.