The Flowers Moonlight Frolic

On the last day of Summer,

A full moon bends her beams among

flowers in the garden.

Leaves rustle, the wind sings through grasses.

Blossoms tilt their faces toward the sound.

 Chloris, Greek goddess of flowers, sings:

 Waken, my blossoms! Dance and sing

 at this festival to celebrate the last sweet summer day.

Lavender Dahlias dance and stretch their petals high.

Yellow marigolds, red and cream Alstroemeria

 blend voices to harmonize.

Carnations create garlands from bunches of baby's breath.

Coneflowers twirl this way and that.

Flamboyant, bright- red Cannas

 flamenco dance wildly about,

as geranium claps it's stems to the beat.

Roses: pink, coral, and white

gather and preen in the moon's sheen.

around their festival queen.

She, rose, cup of sunshine, with pink-laced

white-petalled  skirt swaying to the music,

showcases her innocent beauty

cloaked in green satin leaves.

Spiders, feeling the spirit, spin webs

for dew to catch moonlight

twinkling on vines.

It's bright enough for all of them

but me to see,

for I can only imagine them.

To Store a S'more

As his sister reaches toward

he grabs the plate of s'mores

and carries them indoors

while banging the screen doors.

 His sister, she implores,

implores and now she roars,

but still does he ignore

as he quickly glances for.

And looks and looks some more,

and finds and then he stores,

 the gooey plate of s'mores

 pushed under a closet door.

 While still his mom she snores

 on the bed in the room next door.

 She won't ignore sticky doors and floors!

  His little sister cries some more.

 He returns to those sitting outdoors

Children stare at him in horror

 as with  composure he implores

 to the neighbor from next door,

" Please Sir, can I have some more"

 s'mores

Poems Born in the Morning

Before breakfast is warm

like babies poems are born,

in the wee hours

 of the morn.

Pouts and shouts

not about anything

just to hear

the sounds sing,

Sounds abound

swinging up.

Sounds are found

swinging  down.

Rhyming and timing,

right word unique.

A run of aces high ,

or four trump to seek.

But they come

in a drizzle,

and they come

in a streak.

Another poem to run,

to roam.

Finding its

 way home.

Rain outside, rain inside.

They whine,

they flip, they sign,

they skip.

Another poem to play,

to  play today,

or come again

another day.