SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘plants’

What The Fourth Sister Knows

The fourth sister knows proper grooming makes all the difference.

She maintains the wardrobe; out with the old and in with the new.

You may see her as temperamental, but she is one of the chosen few.

She knows the right color provides a perfect splash of vibrancy.

Give her a chance and she mixes well with others at the party

She leans toward the tender side as she is not frost hardy.

Feed her well. Give her what she needs. Shower her with riches.

She loves the sun, but needs a bit of shade to cool when she gets too hot.

Give her space and if she drinks too much, let her drain so her roots don’t rot.

The fourth sister is showy and likes to be noticed.

She might disappear and suddenly return without a reason why.

Sometimes she just needs to soak in the rain and completely dry.

The fourth sister knows how to hold her own.

She can be the belle of the ball all summer long.

She will hold you in limb until she sings her song.

She lifts, blooms, and curtsies in a timely fashion.

She will lead the dance until the first frost of fall.

On being a geranium, the fourth sister knows it all.

A Little Bit Of The Natural World

An Autumn Song

 I am the crisp breeze

that splatters your soul

with myriad hues of scarlet and gold.


I am a cantata of leaves

that serenade and cajole

with words unspoken, secrets untold.


I am the pitter and patter

of soft falling rain

upon the brown decaying ground.


I am the heart of the matter,

the joy and pain

of all this green, life once found.


I am past summer’s end;

not quite winter’s death,

but life’s chosen state of rest.


I am the gentle bend

of that exhilarating breath

reaching nature’s vibrant crest.


I beckon you to wait and see

for all that is to come and be


This poem is featured at Jingles Poetry Potluck today. Prompt is Nature: Plants, Creatures, and the Cosmos.


 Illuminated by starry sky

Grounded by grass at my feet

I can’t help but wonder why

The truth of nature is discreet


I often try to outrun the wind

Or prophesy age by rings of trees

But I always end where I begin

for not all is measured in degrees


 I swim the rivers wide and deep

And leave my tracks in ivory snow

I scribble in the sand when I sleep

And when I wake I still don’t know


 I hear it not in faint whispers in wind

Nor in coyote howl or lion roar

I look high and low, round every bend

Nor do I salvage it in ancestral lore


 Brown plume of ash and rising steam

That dusted forth upon the dawn of time

Has not fossilized enough for me to glean

The answers I await, that one cosmic sign


And so I continue to wonder why I am here

I’ll stretch and search until the flames die down,

Until the tingling of my soul is no longer fear,

Until the intention of my being has been found


 So I pause between milky way and milky weed

anticipating alignment and synchronicity that say

It is right here, all that you ever want or need,

                       resting in every moment between dusk and rising day

 It slumbers within mountains, rivers, and plains

It is the sacred secret that vibrates in every bone

Beneath all that’s left of time’s charred remains,

The answer lurks, an ancient hymn written in stone

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