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Posts Tagged ‘pregnant’

nj98RMe

I’m here, and I’m waiting again
(Another will suffer the pain).
But as that’s occurring – away –
My minutes are whittled – my day
Is shortened, restricted. My view:
An office, a worker, or two.

Life’s filled with these moments we wait
Like horses to start at a gate.
A woman will wait for a child
Nine months, though it’s driving her wild.
The check’s in the mail – will it come?
Impatient, our fingers may drum.

I’m sitting here thinking of this,
And waiting is not far from bliss.
I’m turning these thoughts in my mind
To verses some others may find.
Thus, sweet balm of peace fills my brain
Like sounds and the smell of the rain.

Occurring to me is this thought:
Since waiting is often, we ought
Put weight in our waiting so space
Won’t sit on, like shadows, our face.
If silver, or if it is gold,
The wait will shine forth forty fold.

Our living itself is a wait,
For death, we hope distant in date.
And what with our lives will we do
While days whittle down till we’re through?

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photo by Robert Proksa at
https://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nj98RMe/Clock+01

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

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The sun grows warmer day by day
As if the earth was sick,
Afflicted by a fever’s rise
Like flames crawl up a wick.

The deer are lazier, but heat
Is not the only cause.
New mothers or mothers to be
May in their wand’ring pause.

Close to her hidden fawn, doe stays
And pricks her ears to hear
The tiniest of frightened cries
Through summer’s atmosphere.

And those with swollen bellies yet
Have chosen where they’ll nest.
Like trucks with heaviest of  loads,
They’re slow and quick to rest.

The deer, beneath the cedars, lie
On hill just ‘cross the way.
And when I first step out my door,
Not one is on display.

And then like recent rains brought floods,
The deer begin to pour
Like water down the gentle slope
For what they know’s in store.

They follow me to where I feed,
Since work for grass they scorn.
I help them in their laziness
With just a little corn.

Our symbiotic link is sweet:
I, in their stress, console.
And from both doe and fawn I need
Their beauty for my soul.

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The photo is mine, taken through my front window.

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© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2017.

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