Turtle creek flows under a weathered bridge where an old country road meanders. In spring crowds of geese gather noisily; tucked atop brittle corn stubble field sunning eastwardly on many mornings.
The Red-wings are causing a rumpus atop pompous grasses swaying in wind; perched too on worn fence posts aligned like stretched dominos, as kill-dear chatter along road trusting their nests are hidden.
Then whooping cranes soar overhead, their methodical sounds still the other birds, as attention is now drawn above; to sounds once endangered yet dozens travel Wisconsin air roads in open skies.
Turtle Creek meanders past many mellow meadows and moraines where spring has gathered its skirts once again- attached on her frilly Easter bonnet bountiful with feathers ready to nest.
The Whooping Crane is the tallest bird in North America and one of the most awe-inspiring, with its snowy white plumage, crimson cap, bugling call, and graceful courtship dance. It’s also among our rarest birds and a testament to the tenacity and creativity of conservation biologists. The species declined to around 20 birds in the 1940s but, through captive breeding, wetland management, and an innovative program that teaches young cranes how to migrate, numbers have risen to about 600 today.
However, with the recent Whooping Crane Eastern Partnership Reintroduction Project, whooping cranes nest naturally for the first time in 100 years in the Necedah National Wildlife Refuge in central Wisconsin, United States. They nest on the ground, usually on a raised area in a marsh.
Moraines are accumulations of dirt and rocks that have fallen onto glacier surface or have been pushed along by the glacier as it moves. The dirt and rocks composing moraines can range in size from powdery silt to large rocks and boulders. A receding glacier can leave behind moraines that are visible long after the glacier retreats.
Dawn no longer comes, it is dry as hung garments. Moon and stars vanish leaving me dim, dreary days; seeds of youthful faith linger.
“Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth, Before the difficult days come, and the years draw near when you say, “I have no pleasure in them”: While the sun and the light, the moon and the stars, are not darkened, and the clouds do not return after the rain;”
In Japan, the tanka is well over twelve hundred years old (haiku is about three hundred years old), and has gone through many periods of change in style and content. But it has always been a poem of feelings, often involving metaphor and other figurative language (not generally used in haiku). While tanka praising nature have been written, and seem to resemble “long haiku,” most tanka deal with human relationships or the author’s situation.
Maple tree seeds are mature in either spring to early summer or late fall, depending on the species. Plant the seeds about three-quarters of an inch (2 cm.) deep in moist peat moss and place them in a plastic bag inside the refrigerator for 60 to 90 days
A rabbit will need a thicker coat in the winter than in the summer. Also, a rabbit’s fur may change color for its protection. This is more common in wild than domestic animals, but it applies to all rabbits. It’s a natural reaction to light exposure
During the winter, rabbits take in more wood-based food sources, such as tree bark, twigs, and conifer needles. Rabbits don’t hibernate, so they dig holes or find warm, closed-in spaces, in hollow logs, rock piles, and brush piles. But they don’t just eat plants.Dec
Food isn’t the only thing a rabbit has to be particularly concerned about during winter, however. The loss of vegetation density means predators can spot their prey much more easily. In order to survive, rabbits must find places where they can both eat and hide from predators.
Beneath the summer moon, hidden bats fill empty street. Flap their leathery wings, meet the darken shadows in twilight.
Silent flight, soar without tune as inky blackness settles land. Silhouette of massive trees stand crowded limbs gather in my sight;
Swooping in circles tightly hewn by brazen bat’s erratic moves; their signature etched grooves in hushed moonlit summer night.
Hope is not a message strewn by bat who rules the evening sky or milky moon which shines on high; it’s God who designed bat at flight!
It is He who made the summer moon, the music, melody and nature’s tune. With speech the earth was first hewn and stars across the universe strewn.
God placed bat’s wings at twilight, to gather at His will, before His sight. He reveals hidden things of night; and waits for men’s souls to take flight.
“He reveals the deep and hidden things; He knows what lies in darkness, and light dwells with Him.”
It’s been a dark time around the world. Like the bat, COVID seemed to creep up on the souls of men. It has etched in our lives change. Some from loss and others in remembering the laughter of loved ones.
Days grow weary from our burdens longing we look for renewed strength, mind and spirit; as winds of time toss then tremble hoping, yearning for souls to freely yield, to be renewed by wings from Heaven; released, from earthly things which encumber; freedom in the things of God forever!
“Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall. But those who wait upon the LORD will renew their strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.
I had so much fun with this poetry form earlier this week and thought I would try it again! Waltmarie poetic form was invented by Candace Kubinec.Here are the guidelines for writing the Waltmarie: • 10 lines • Even lines are two syllables in length, odd lines are longer (but no specific syllable count) • Even lines make their own mini-poem if read separately
I must be long winded, because I need 14 lines to complete a thought. So this was a twisted on this form. Remember the even lines created a hidden message on their own, if read separately.
Waves lap upon the shores like dogs thirsty after a run; they rise then fall. Tumbling days, weeks, finally years; as sands of time trickle truth.
Water is life, breaths life in moderate wandering ways. It’s foe, a piece of parched earth dangling, drained and dizzy from its unending thirst.
Weather rules day then night; rain, sleet, ice, or snow grasp gathering at will, builds walls, halts life while still smirking; for all man’s worth, he waits.
Water baptizes, transfers trader to one tested by his faithfulness now following Someone much greater, who rules the waters with a mighty, firm hand of power.
Waves of hope rise, tower above like life giving sun at early dawn; Living Water’s sacrifice brings new life where desert land springs forth new seed there, blooms in breeze.
P. Wolf; poet & author of Jemi’s Noble Quest
“Jesus answered and said to her, “Whoever drinks of this water will thirst again, but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will become in him a fountain of water springing up into everlasting life.”