Sunday, September 22, 2013

Obsessed by bogs!



Every mile or so in Ontario there’s a bog.
Some bogs are swampy ponds and others are cattail farms.
Some look like dead tree cemeteries and others are bushy groves.
And, some are softwood trees growing in a forest depression.

Every mile or so in Ontario there is a bog.
Some can be fished and others can be slogged.
Some are flooded from rain and others by spring snow-melt.
And, some are dried from beaver dams held firm.

Every mile or so in Ontario there is a bog.
Some are populated by herons and egrets and others by red-wings and wrens.
Some are fished by diving kingfishers and others are swum by muskrats and snakes.
And, some are nesting places for warblers and nuthatches.

Every mile or so in Ontario there is a bog.
Over years, changing from lake to swamp.
From from swamp to marsh.
From Marsh to bushy and tree-dotted pre-forest.
And, from pre-forest to softwoods in transition to forest.

There are bogs everywhere in Ontario ... a boring lecture this biologist is willing to give to all who are interested.    

Friday, September 20, 2013

A New Friendship


Peter ’n Maggie

What are good friends? Oh well … let me ponder it … hummmm … they deliver newspapers to you at your isolated cabin north of Toronto in the cool of the August noon when one is sleeping and another is cooking hot dogs over a hot stove keeping from being famished in the chair by the hummingbirds feeding themselves sugar water in preparation for the long flight south to South America. Or, they’re Maggie ’n Peter!

What are good friends? I think I get it ... no pondering necessary ... they stop by to say hello and stay for two hours drinking your vodka, wine and rye while chatting about sundry subjects that are of great interest at the time but get lost in the ether of our smiles and happy thoughts sent on to the hummingbirds preparing for their long flight south to South Carolina. Or, they’re Peter ’n Maggie!

What are good friends? I am now sure about it ... I am convinced that they are visitors from another world caring for alien beings hidden away in a rocky lake hideaway far from the beaten path of humanity here in Ontario near Apsley where fish are plenty and trees are spiking the blue sky of August colored green with envy and white clouds puffy in the midday sun. Or, they are The Peter ’n Maggie of the tribe “Special People” who love the hummingbirds who are soon leaving for alien places south of Canada!  

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Upon Building a Treehouse: Preparing Many Years of Father-Son Love


Aaron’s Treehouse
Life will be really good in a father-built treehouse.
Hanging way up there in the middle of the tree.
Climbing its ladder each time will be a thrill.
Building it for your first son is way beyond joy.
Preparing many years of father-son love.

Life is full of camp-outs and sleep-overs.
Laying on sleeping bags and soft white pillows.
Listening to the owls hoot and the squirrels chatter.
Sleeping soundly until dawn bright light.
Experiencing many hours of father-son love.

Life is exciting when war is waged against it.
Play bullets, arrows and leaf grenades in flight.
Defending the tree fort from enemy fire.
Holding ‘em off until the dinner bell rings.
Having so much fun from father-son love.

Life is special when dad and son hide there and talk.
Telling stories about bold exploits and cunning.
Using the treehouse for secrets and sharing.
Holding pow-wows about first crushes and ball games.
Getting to know each other with father-son love.

Life is best when this son rebuilds the treehouse for his daughter.
Showing her how to perform perfect sleep-overs.
Using the treehouse to share boy stories and laughter.
Holding talk sessions about first kisses and coffee klatches.
Extending on the next generation of father-daughter love.

Life is outstanding with father-child love.
  


Sunday, September 8, 2013

A backward poet writes inverse

?poet that am I
!my oh my
.it know don’t I
.bye ’n bye

?poet that is who
!me oh me
.it know I now
.cry ’n cry

?poet that is Hale Doc
!whale oh whale
.it show must I then
.psy ’n psy

?proof any got
!aye oh aye
.it goes here.
.try ’n try I’ll

!inverse t’was, see 


Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Upon Watching Hummingbirds Play


Onto the white Petunias they soar and sip.
Siblings learning from hum and mum.
Juvenile wings twirling in a soft varum.
Adult wings with a much deeper varoom.
It’s getting closer to heading South.

Onto the yellow Ragweed they swoop and hover.
Siblings chasing each other far and wide.
Juvenile hearts beating at 300 RPM.
Adult hearts showing a similar pace.
Youth learning to fly South before the Fall.

Onto the purple Geraniums they wait their turn.
Siblings swooping up and down and about.
Juveniles readying their beaks for horns of plenty.
Adult beaks nudging ‘em to continue trying.
It’s even closer to their first flight South.

Onto the lilies they glisten and glide.
Siblings siphoning nectar one after another.
Juveniles flying up and down in swirls and flutters.
Adults flying to nearby branches observing this clutter.
Fall is nearing and the southern breezes are beckoning.

Onto the phlox they chose the best.
Siblings a rush to learn how to dart and soar.
Juveniles discerning good nectar sources.
Adults winging in and out of pathways well taught.
Soon they’re off to their genetic destination.

Well, off they go in early September breezes.
Soaring at high altitude that parents freely show.
To a North Carolina spot that instinct well chose.
To return to a yard with flowers galore.
The southern trip again successfully fulfilled.

To return to Treetops in Spring as before.
Juveniles to adults a new generation becomes.
From mid-flight love a next generation springs.
All sipping the nectar that loving flowers bring.
And, we get to watch hummingbirds play once again.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Gorgeous Natural Displays

Today, I saw nature displayed on outcroppings beyond Treetops.
There were mosses, ferns, lichens and mushrooms galore.

The mosses were varied green mats ... tempting me to recline as natives once did.
Some mosses arrayed spore cases ... preparing new generations to come.

The ferns had fiddle-heads and fronds aplenty ... precious enough to be porch  decor.
These ferns arrayed spore cases ... also, preparing new generations to come.

The lichens were nearly colorless splotches ... rounded symbionts adorning the  rocks.
Some lichens were pale green and others were gray ... drying and flaking away new generations to come. 

The mushrooms were shaped like tams, coolie hats and buttons ... often white, but some brightly colored.
These mushrooms showed spore-laden gills ... preparing new generations to come.

Aren’t nature’s displays gorgeous?







Loucks Lake Love

I rode the fast boat to Loucks Lake.
It was a wondrous trip through sun-drenched palisades.

I landed at the dock on the north edge of Loucks Lake.
It was wooden slats on a float-held frame.

I walked up the stairs from Loucks Lake.
It was a wondrous climb through shade-draped plantings.

I turned and stared out to the ripple-free waters of Loucks Lake.
It was a mirrored reflection of a green-hued forest.

I held onto the love of my life at Loucks Lake.
She was the aura of Treetops on the high-hilled summit.

I will come and go from this paradise of Loucks Lake.
An ever-repeated trip for my love-filled heart.

 

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Treetops is Scenic Love


TREETOPS IS SCENIC LOVE.

I got off the fast boat at Treetops.
I walked up the dock to the stairway at Treetops …
a stairway lined with bright flowers and sugar maples.
Treetops is scenic love.

I mounted the stairs to Treetops.
I walked slowly up to Treetops …
feeling the love emitted by the flowers bright and birds feeding.
Treetops is scenic love.

I reached the cottage landing of Treetops.
I walked to the front door of Treetops …
a passage of warmth and caress.
Treetops is scenic love.

I walked through the passage into Treetops.
I received warm smiles, long caresses and love …
a welcome that gives me calm and patience.
Treetops is scenic love.

Treetops is Linda’s aura and its love surrounds my being.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Treetops is Paradise

One day I came to Treetops.
Upon first look t’was a wondrous sight.
On Loucks Lake surrounded by trees and granite.
Teaming everywhere with birds and dragon flies.
To the delight of all who come here in flight.

Day two at Treetops was awash in color.
Upon second look it was far better than the first.
On Loucks Lake aripple in waves.
Bass jumping for flies,  aphids and water bugs.
To the delight of all who come here to relax.

Day three at Treetops was never to be repeated.
Upon third look it was unbelievably perfect.
On Loucks Lake breeze less and calm.
Loons diving for aplenty grasses and green algae.
To the delight of all who came to ponder.
I stayed and stayed in Paradise .....
And, day twenty-four at Treetops was sunny and clear.
Upon each ’n every look it became progressively better.
On Loucks Lake blue, wavy and glistening.
Herons and buzzards swooping from shore to marsh.
To the delight of all who come to a yonder.

Treetops is a place to dream and forget.
A far-away place from stress and tedium.
I'll come here again to view its valium.
Geese, insects, beavers and squirrels aplenty.
To my delight I’ll never forget its special gifts.

I love it here.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Paradise Regained


I’m at Treetops.
Up on the hill in mid-Ontario.
Where chipmunks and goldfinches feed
and mosquitoes breed. 
Treetops is paradise.

I’m happy at Treetops.
At the far end of long Loucks Lake.
Where red squirrels and hummingbirds hover and deer flies bother.
Treetops is paradise.

I’m serenely happy at Treetops.
Nearby good friends and neighbors.
Where geraniums and pines grow wild
and breezes blow mild.
Treetops is paradise.

And, I’m planning to every summer at Treetops.
Up north in the deep woods of Canada.
Where the lakes cool and refresh
and the people tend to impress.
Treetops is paradise.