Mornings

Mornings have been good to me

Arrived with regularity

Winter’s cold and summer’s hot

Spring’s perfumed by Forget-me-not,

But autumn’s morning’s changeable

When nothing is arrangeable

Fill me with anticipation.

That’s when I take a last vacation!

Picnics rained on, snow or sleet

Changed to Indian Summer’s heat.

Ah, my heart loves autumn tho’

The year is making moves to go,

Every day a happy bet

That winter won’t take over yet.

 

 

© Patricia Lamont

Insomnia

Darkness was around me

Like a blanket,

Time to cuddle down and go to sleep

But eyelids won’t stay closed

And brain does not refuse

To ponder on some subject – verrrry deep!

 

I stretch my weary limbs

Compose my mind

Making sure that pillows are just right

But soon I toss and turn

Til there’s no comfort left

And then I know – I face a sleepless night!

 

I might as well sit up!

Try a crossword –

It doesn’t work … I can’t stop yawning

What’s a five letter word for Dream?

How would I know? My head falls forward…

And I wake to find it’s morning!

 

 

© Patricia Lamont

Heritage

Who can countermand

The warmth of dear familiarity

Old things, long owned, well worn and comfortable?

The debris of one’s life, its generality.

Stiff paper flowers – real ones dried and pressed

Remind of great occasions, preserved with care.

Oddments of china left from lovely set

Of bridal service; blackened silverware.

Scraps of silken fabrics, fancy laces

Remnant remains from fashions long since done,

Scant skeins of yarn from now-forgotten projects

Probably socks, or mittens for snowfun.

 

Such a host of seeming worthless tenants

Occupying space, in closets or in drawers

Scenic postcards, keepsakes from world travels

Maps, and ‘photos, bright programme brochures.

Discards all … yet priceless to their owners

Uniquely rare, recalling some pet craze

Or special times experienced;

Enriching fading memories on idle days.

 

                                           

 © Patricia Lamont

File please?

I am just a number on file

In many places –

Hydro, Telus – and M.S.A.

but in my doctor’s office, things are different.

 

Among his many ”cases”

I’m a personality, come what may

Resting in a numbered Patient File

Which spells my name and date of birth,

Details of the surgery some time performed

Weight, height, and middle girth;

Colds and little disabilities

Lab tests or diagnoses

Requiring his care with medication,

All carefully notated.

Times and dates of visits

Records kept with dedication.

Warmed by conversation and advice

From friend to friend.

 

Oh yes! The many people

Sheltered between the covers

Of a thousand files

Lining the office walls

Are ”one-to-one” endangered species

Respected, cared for, known by name

To my ”beloved physician.”

 

 

© Patricia Lamont

Equinox

Of late the seasons show a short delay

What once made Spring in April – comes in May.

And Fall that brought in gold September

Now lags along – reluctant til November!

 

Slowly Summer greens the middle months

Then lingers, through the ”Great Orion” hunts –

When “Summer Triangle” jewels winter sky

Clouds start to pile, in changing scenes, on high.

 

March winds, April showers – now in June, July

Means August may see colder days go by

Yet – bulbs and flowers, great trees in their prime

Still blossom at the old accustomed time…

 

© Patricia Lamont 

Energize

Energize

“Thank you!”

Powerful release

Almost as strong as

 “Please”

or  “May I?”

 

Courtesy’s increase

Could even make

Wars cease!

© Patricia Lamont

Easter Resurrection

Resurrection

Here comes Easter once again

Dressed in pink and white

Lovely blossoms trim the trees

To show that Spring’s in sight

 

Daffodils, bluebells, tulips too

Gifts from Mother Earth

Spilt all over with a view

To grace the grand re-birth …

 

Maybe the significance

And Easter’s real direction

Is in the overwhelming proof

Of certain Resurrection.

 

© Patricia Lamont

The Day After

 

Please – don’t breathe too loudly,

Hold back any sneezes

Coughs or throat clearances

Soft sighs or wheezes!

 

Keep all noise ‘til later

Move softly, walk slowly,

‘Til my head’s feeling better

In part if not wholly!

 

Oh! The food was so rich

And the wine much too strong

But the fault is all mine

I just ”partied” too long.

 

Please! Don’t move a muscle…

I’m afraid it might squeak!!

And do use a whisper

If you really must speak . . .

 

 

© Patricia Lamont

Crow Territory – Boundary Bay

 

A beautiful black feather

Dropped into my lap from on high,

Where only a moment before

Crow families darkened the sky.

 

A noble gift, swiftly delivered

Bringing a secret delight

From silently given assurance

That my present was ‘quite alright.’

 

 

© Patricia Lamont

 

 

Stray Thoughts

 

 The tulips leaned over to listen when we talked about Mother Earth

 Only a SuperCreator could have known to put stars in the sky

 

  It’s very strange where friendship comes from – and how it comes about that it does, or does not, develop

 

 I can hear the blossoms calling through the trees – cherry, apple, pear and snowy peas

 

 There is so much yet to happen

 

 Early spring tulips shivered in the crystal air of suddenly-frozen night hours

 

 Small clouds gather in fluffy groups, like newborn baby lambs

 

 The orange globe of sun piercing thick fog glistens like a Christmas tree decoration

 

 There was a flap of a wing as the shadow of a bird dropped on to the rooftop

 

 Hear thunder growling out an aria from the Sky Opera

 

 The multi-coloured fish blazoned against a windy sky, is only a kite after all

 

 Watch the rocket ripping clouds apart to reveal their silver linings

 

 Follow the jet as it lays a band of white fur across the blue velvet robe of heaven

 

 Mist and clouds rise from the valley like steam from a kettle

 

 Sharp needles of lightning stitching thunderheads together

 

 Spring is the season of discovery, as nature ‘comes out’ after being closeted through wintry days

 

 Each blade of grass, living creature, grain of sand, drop of water and ray of sunshine, has been created with its innate love built in, to nurture all else in perpetuity

 

 The creative mind, as the poetry of Life, moves on to those things which are to reflect the beauty and truth which it has already been and will continue to Be

 

  There comes a rhythm of thought, into music of the mind

 

    One cannot go back—but one can go on…

 

 

 

© Pat Lamont