Misty waterfalls
And mud trails
Mountains covered in green
Like the meadows
As you climb up the top
You savour corn on the cob
Roasted on charcoal
A zing of lemon, butter and herbs
While taking in the view of the valley down
Moments to minutes, gentle hours
Memories in old photographs

The moon, shy and demure
In her peaches and cream finery
Appears into the faint blue sky
Glides up delicate and slow
As the sky turns midnight blue
Soon she changes hue
Rises in full glory
As she goes up the charcoal sky
amongst the twinkling stars to stay
Now in a fiery orange glow

\|/...\/...\|/...\/...\|/

On this gift of space,
we maintain a garden
where grows many kinds of seeds,
some flourish...some die...some
are stunted...they just don't grow,

we do what we do best
in this garden
we try to be better,
even when on a standstill,
or when snugs pop up
and distract
we stray from focus...but,
try to get back on track
we...........persevere,
and along the way, we inspire,
and enhance others, too,

we're on the clouds when fruits
of our labor are appreciated
for, high up there is a temple
most of us aim to reach
to experience some glory
to taste sweet water
from the fountain of fame,

but, its flow...dries bit by bit,
winds of change blow, to remind,
there are others, too, in the line,
waiting for their share of drink,
we move over...we give way...
but, we don't stop planting
we just lie low, at times, disappear,
then start down there........again,
like a newcomer........persevering,
aiming for the temple.......again,
not as eager as the first time,
but, just savouring
the blissful feeling,
when it comes...
::::::::::::::::


Sally
©Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
July 11, 2020

It’s dark and cold
Just before the dawn
Bedewed Baby leaves
Rare jewels shimmer under the street lamp
The birds have set their tune of mirth
It’s always the same with these birds
A new dawn, rising
They have welcomed
Just the same
What’s with these birds
I wish to know and learn
Do they do karaoke dawns
Someday, I wish to sing along
But today, as happy as them
I listen to their mirthful song

Two rows of seeds
Gift wrapped in ***** of mud
Two I had planted in pots
In a month’s time, I remember
I plucked a few lady’s fingers
Lovely the produce
Soon they faded
Gardening and growing vegetables not my forte
Love plants, but tending to them and nurture
Not what I can do
So I further gift those seeds
Where they are nurtured and nourished
And the fruits and vegetables
Well produced

Ribbons of rains
A translucent sheet
Papery streamers
Down the streets

Children dream
Of castles and moats
To sail their
white paper boats

Yesterday’s flowers
Colour the pathway
For every passerby
As they take a final bow