Miscellaneous Poems 4

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Footprints in a vibrant chorus

Left by Sassafrasasaurus

Green and yellow, orange and red

From paint-spills where the beast had tread

Stretched across the concrete floor

(It entered through an open door!)

I'll have to clean them up sometime

For now, I love this neon line...

On cold, cold days, when it has snowed

Cars drive by, and in their wake

Blow swirling snow across the road

And cirrus clouds of powder make!

Soon enough, August days

Bring warm winds, and summer storms

And passing cars, with splashing haze

Make fountains, as the weather warms

Of all the things that, orange, are

The fruit with that name is, by far

The best example of this hue

But something else is also true

This kin of lemon, and of lime,

Has no good word with which to rhyme

That's why, it seems, so few compose

Poems about it, I suppose

But sadder still, is purple, which

Is not, by name, to anything hitched

And sadly, folks, at the same time

Like orange, has no words which rhyme!

Since orange and purple (and silver too!)

Are each a lonely rhyme-less hue

To end this on a happy note

Is why this hackneyed ode I wrote!

Twenty million years ago

There was a seaside lava flow

As incandescence struck the sea,

Water boiled ferociously

Leaving bubbles in the ledge

That hardened on the water's edge

Described as "pillow lava," for

The folds and voids that form its core

That layer hardened, then ten more

Then hundreds, on the ocean floor

Salt water then began to seep

Through rock, a thousand meters deep

Oozing down, through cracks in stone

Dissolving quartz, then flowing on

Til reaching holes, once filled with air,

Began to form new geodes there

Layer over layer spread

Iron adding brown and red

To white quartz layers, thick and thin

Growing there from outside in

As it filled, the water slowed

Allowing crystal shapes to grow

That's how a geode came to be

That now lives in my home with me!

A kingdom, so it's called, to name this stately, grand old limb

On which the funguses are found by scientific whim

Not animal, not plant, not protozoan - stuff left out!

That's how this motley crew of odd-shaped outcasts came about

An ancient, comic quiet bunch, often overlooked

Except by mushroom foragers, nose in nature book

Or hikers in the forest, who just happen to look down

While walking by one on a log that's lying on the ground

Red and orange, yellow, white, pink and purple, too

Stemmed, shelved, branched in form, just to name a few

A vast short-lived community, in winter disappears,

But search the ground in springtime, and you'll see it reappear

The oldest shell I've ever seen

Lay tossed by waves, and in between

Abrasive sand and pounding stones

Which wore away its ridge-like bones

Creatures on the sandy shoals

Had drilled in it a hundred holes

Water from the sea had stained

What little of the shell remained

It had a beauty all its own

Unlike the seashells that are shown

On shelves at stores for folks to buy

I'm glad this old one caught my eye!

Travel with me to Twillingate

An island, ocean kind of date

Blue white icebergs drift along

Ocean breeze, Celtic song

Travel with me to Twillingate

Share twilight with me in Twillingate

Stay outside as the hour grows late

Stars twinkling, deep blue sky

No one happier than you and I

Share twilight with me in Twillingate

It's far away on the northern shore

Of the Rock, as it's called by those who live there

A place where there is always more

Of the kind and good heart of Newfoundland

Ebbing tide and swirling sand

Plenty of ocean air

And the kind and good heart of Newfoundland...

Wile away time in Twillingate

With a glass of wine and celebrate

Not just a place, a gentler time

A song, a poem, rhythm, and rhyme

Wile away time in Twillingate

Let's go soon to Twillingate

Wish it were now, just can't wait 

Rocky coves, ocean arms

Hold you, and you feel the warmth 

Let's go soon to Twillingate

A place where there is always more

Of the kind and good heart of Newfoundland

Ebbing tide and swirling sand

Plenty of ocean air

And the kind and good heart of Newfoundland...