The Son Flower

Such terrifying aspect;

you wear your growl on your sleeve

and eat small children for breakfast.

Something from a sci-fi film,

you are no Son worshipper yet;

your skills are too rustic –

but time will mellow your bite,

and the Son will deal with your bark,

and one day you will be a true

Son Flower,




a feast for the birds of the field

and a delight to the eyes and heart.

And the day you receive your yellow angel’s wings –

would you lean over and

spill your Seeds

so that I may learn to be a

Son flower too?

Bear Hugs

Goldilocks and her handmaids three

Glint with mischief, wickedly

Plotting their tricks and planning designs

To push all the boundaries, cross all the lines

Drawn in the sand to reign them in;

Wearing the patience of Mama thin,

Making the tears of poor Papa run

Down his vexed chin, much to their fun.

Have your fun now, you impish girls,

Pout out your lips, and primp your curls;

Once you meet with your husbands-to-be,

Your wild carefree days will end naturally,

Responsible, matronly,  appropriate, wise

You will become –  bear hugs civilize!

This She Can Play!

The blossoms of youth have abandoned ship,

No blush of innocence stains her cheek;

Her false teeth often misplace her lips

And all of her joints now ache and creak.

A cap of grey fuzz replaced her tresses,

Some body parts sag like an apron in front;

The young ones object to how she dresses,

Her verbiage tends to be much more blunt –

But oh! the freedom to do as she wants,

The pressures to wow are fallen away;

A joker’s cap rakishly follows her jaunts –

At last she is she, and this she can play!

This is what is left after the peony’s bloom is finished – and I couldn’t help but notice the jaunty joker’s hat!  🙂