Waiting For A Whisper

"I'm going to sit here,
pen in hand, until a poem
hops on my shoulder
and whispers in my ear"
(Mary Ann Schnorenberg)

This entry was inspired by my Mom - my favorite poet.  She would probably shake her head - "Tsk" - and say "Jonathan - I just scribble".  But I would tell her she has the eyes, and the voice, and the soul of a true artist.  Her "scribblings" (and she's published 3 books full of them) always move me :-)

A Shy Summer Spy

Yellow roses stand outside my window
Gently nodding in the mid-morning breeze

Little lemon petals curl and cup
Leaves stretch and strain
Trying to soak up every last drop
Of summer sunshine gold

They seem so busy being beautiful

Buds to burst
Honeybees to host
Ladybugs to look after
A world to silently watch over

They're much too busy to notice me

But every now and then, if I sit real quietly
And look, just out of the corner of my eye
I swear I catch them peeking through the window
Like little kids outside a candy store
Standing on their tippy toes

I thought I was the only curious one
Looking out the window this morning
Not realizing that other friendly faces
Were looking in at me

When our eyes meet, neither of us says anything
Too polite and proper to bother the other
But we both smile and wave and
Go back to our busy-ness

It's nice to be remembered

Thanks Mom for reminding me to just look outside my window, and to wait quietly until something hops on my shoulder and whispers "Let me in".

Love, your son
The poet