Though Nature's most spectacular colours may be fading, her more subtle colours are right before our eyes, waiting to be recognized for their own beauty; I wrote this little poem in appreciation of hidden beauty.  November is the quiet month; that of reflection, remembrance, and gratitude.

November Song
 
The beautiful colours,
That climbed over fences,
Feeding our spirits
And filling our senses,
Are tenderly tucked in,
Beneath Nature's blanket,
Laid down to rest,
In Earth's trundle bed;
 
Our souls and our eyes,
Being now richly sated,
With warm happy colours,
That from earth emanated,
Seeds for the winter's
Dark days that may come;
When gray skies insist
'There's no beauty to see,'
It's then that I'll pull out
The colours in me;
 
The warmth from my hands,
The light from my smiles,
Warm colours of kindness
Antidote for our trials,
There's no greater beauty
Than those gifts when shared
With neighbours and strangers,
So glad that we cared
To help them to sing out
November's sweet song.

 

Some memories are kept in a secure car on life's train; others are just passing through.  As we shuffle the cars, let's always be the smiling conductor!

The Memory Station

If I forget to tell you
What it is I just forgot,
Please don't think
That I don't care,
Or that my memory's shot;
My thoughts are simply racing
Around a busy track,
And may have missed
A stop or two,
Or have fallen
Through a crack,
But not to worry,
I'll keep pulling
Memories from  my pack
Till what it was
That I forgot,
Remembers to come back!

At this time of year, I always love watching the maple trees coming into bud and bloom; they were always a favourite flower that I'd bring home for mom on my way home from school.  She was so gracious to greet my offerings with enthusiasm and find jars to display these wondrous flowers! Next would be dandelions and clover and wild roses.   ' Crimson and clover' just popped into my head - loved that song!  It came out in 1981 when I was the young mother of three.  Ah, memories of chasing the three of them across our lawn, trying to coax them into clothing of various sorts, or into just wearing something!  Those precious moments, though they were busy ones, went by way too fast.  I tried to capture one of my own early memories in this little poem; I hope it stirs some of your own warm memories and adds to your garden of smiles:

Mom's Garden 

Before I learned
To read or write,
I'd bring her flowers
I thought she'd like;
Some pansies from
Her garden bright,
Or a blossom from our tree;

 

I'd find such wonders
On my way,
And I was sure
That she would say,
How beautiful! and never mind
A few holes in her garden,
Here and there;
 
She seemed to know
The joy I felt,
And knew just how my
Heart would melt,

To see her smile
Then hug me tight,
And plant a kiss,
In pure delight!
 
The fanciest flowers
Could not compare
To the seeds of joy
That she planted there;
Her garden of kindness
I'll tend with care,
And water it daily
With laughter and prayer.

 

A Litter Lament 

Down in the laneway,

A ruckus arose,

A cackling and cawing,

A quarrel of crows,

Pushing and pulling

With feathers a-flap

Till the tie on the bag gave way with a snap!

Then, a squawk and a squabble,

Over what they would gobble,

Or some silly bauble

That someone discarded

Its worth unregarded

They would bring to their nest,

With all of the rest

Of the treasures they dug

With each hopeful tug;

 

Litterbird, Litterbird, fly away home,

Stop spoiling my work,

Leave my garbage alone!

Every two-winged, two-legged,

Four legged critter,

It just takes one thought

To decide not to litter;

Let's stop all the squabbling

That tears us apart,

Pick up our litter,

And polish our hearts.

 

The Wave

Twice today, I have been the grateful recipient of a friendly wave; at least that is what I assumed the fellow in the passing truck, and the lady walking her dog coming towards me down the street were going to do. I was pretty sure that I knew each of them until they came within range and I realized that my enthusiastic waving was being met with questioning stares.  No matter, I gave the wave a huge smile follow up and I felt better as their smiles grew and they hesitantly returned the wave.  I may not have known them at all, but I figure that it was better to wave in error than to let fear of making a mistake spoil those special moments.

There is nothing wrong with saying hello to a stranger on the street or offering them a wave, and certainly a smile; it may be the only bit of warmth that he or she receives on that particular day, or possibly for many days.  It certainly picked up my own mood and jolted me out of self absorption that was not nearly as interesting; if we can't laugh at ourselves on a regular basis, then we become dull very quickly—best to sharpen up those smile muscles, smooth out our wrinkles, and join the wave! 

I raised my hand

And held it high,

In  a friendly wave

As a lad walked by;

A friendly wave,

How brave, how brave!

 

Strangers, yes,

But his eyes met mine,

A little bit shy,

But with hopeful shine,

He tossed a smile;

What class, what style!

 

With every wave,

To someone new,

My steps were lifted,

My spirit grew;

My wave had power

An awesome tool,

How cool, how cool!

 

 This is a humorous look at our dependence on technology, and how sometimes we all need to take a break before we plug in again!

Plug Me In!

 

"I'm dying! I'm dying!"

My poor cell phone cried,

But I paid it no heed

As I headed outside;

The garden was quiet,

Time flew along,

The birds in the trees

Held me rapt with their song;

Back in the house,

No pings could be heard,

No greeting from Siri,

Not a single ring stirred;

"I can't understand

This new state of mind;

It's just so unlike her

To leave me behind,"

One last desperate try;

To the birds looking in,

"I really don't mean

To intrude on your din,

Tell her all is forgiven,

But time's running thin;

Please tweet her my message—

Please, please, plug me in!"

 Kindness is essential in the healing of our world.

The Quality of Kindness

 

The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven

Upon the place beneath.

It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

                        ..... William Shakespeare

 

The quality of kindness

Is the most precious of our treasures;

The humblest, yet most courageous;

From eye to eye it beckons—

Look long and deeply into mine,

We are one, you and I,

In our pain and in our joy;

In my yearning to find hope,

Am I misunderstood?

Have I misunderstood you?

We are all brought to tears,

By the touch of a kind word or act,

That drops like healing rain

Upon the wounds that we carry;

Let us hope that our eyes

Fully opened,

Will look deeply into the beauty,

In the eyes of our brothers,

And encourage

The quality of kindness that waits there.