Walking Down My Street
The quail sprint across the road,
their short, stubby legs
spinning like pinwheels,
chirping and whistling and giggling,
like a group of teenage girls
on a Saturday night pajama party.
A sparrow streaks over my head
quicker than a shooting star or a fighter jet,
and perches on the top of an Italian cypress.
It flicks its little tail up and down,
swivels its head.
I think of a weathervane in a brisk Scottish wind,
and lavender on the moors.
The sparrow
is singing like a rock star.
The quail are chirping and cooing,
and scratching in the red dirt
for fallen foxtail seeds.
Maybe they’re saints come to earth
to dispense miracles
right here on this street,
and I thought I was just taking a walk
to clear my head.
Maybe in a second I’ll see red and pink roses
falling from the sky,
and some petals might magically fall
into my heart.
Maybe I should I plop down on the curb
by the white daisies
growing in the ditch by Caroline’s house,
and close my eyes.
Maybe I should see if I can smell faith.
Or taste hope.
I read in a large black book when I was ten
that God is mysterious.
But I don’t know if I have to close my eyes
to believe.
The Simple Joys of Choosing to Be a Pansy
“I feel as if the flower is trying to tell me something,
and I almost catch the meaning."~ Diane Porter
Just like you,
I had a choice before I came.
I could have been an aluminum ladder
in case the neighbors house caught on fire.
Or maybe one of those chocolate Labs
who gets to dig people out of rubble,
and be on every local TV station.
I could have been a handsome life guard
watching for that shark fin.
I thought about the joys of listening.
How it fills the heart.
So, I became a pansy.
Uncomplicated. Accessible. Trouble-free.
A little red and yellow flower,
living a simple life with my good friends,
in the dirt, in a pot.
Waking up in the morning. Just like you.
Drinking water. Just like you.
Needing the Sun
and his total affection, just like you.
A pansy listens.
Doesn’t give unsolicited advice or strong opinions.
We use our ears wisely,
as if we are royalty.
Think of us pansies
as those wonderful vanilla ice cream cones
you’ve enjoyed in the heat,
at a summer fair.
A pansy’s job
is to melt sorrow out of every human heart.
Nancy Lee Melmon - Poems can be like my Southwest cedar firewood. Once we read poems out loud, a spark can catch fire in the heart, and stay lit as long as we live, giving insights, courage and fierce hope every day…. Nancy Lee lives in Sedona, AZ with the quail, vanilla full moons, coyotes, cacti, and yellow and white jasmine vines as her true friends and as heady perfume for the soul. Melmon is quite happy to have the honor to be one of the six visionary poets in Dreams and Blessings by Blue Light Press - 2020. She is very proud too to be in the book Canyon, River, Stone and Light - 2021 - poems inspired by music, art, photography, sculpture and dance, inspired by a BLP Summer Workshop by BLP and book complied graciously by Jennifer Lagier. Nancy is published in the anthology, Pandemic Puzzle Poems selected by Diane Frank and Prartho Sereno, and published by Blue Light Press - 2021. Plus, Carrying the Branch - Poets in Search of Peace, by Glass Lyre Press - 2017.
The quail sprint across the road,
their short, stubby legs
spinning like pinwheels,
chirping and whistling and giggling,
like a group of teenage girls
on a Saturday night pajama party.
A sparrow streaks over my head
quicker than a shooting star or a fighter jet,
and perches on the top of an Italian cypress.
It flicks its little tail up and down,
swivels its head.
I think of a weathervane in a brisk Scottish wind,
and lavender on the moors.
The sparrow
is singing like a rock star.
The quail are chirping and cooing,
and scratching in the red dirt
for fallen foxtail seeds.
Maybe they’re saints come to earth
to dispense miracles
right here on this street,
and I thought I was just taking a walk
to clear my head.
Maybe in a second I’ll see red and pink roses
falling from the sky,
and some petals might magically fall
into my heart.
Maybe I should I plop down on the curb
by the white daisies
growing in the ditch by Caroline’s house,
and close my eyes.
Maybe I should see if I can smell faith.
Or taste hope.
I read in a large black book when I was ten
that God is mysterious.
But I don’t know if I have to close my eyes
to believe.
The Simple Joys of Choosing to Be a Pansy
“I feel as if the flower is trying to tell me something,
and I almost catch the meaning."~ Diane Porter
Just like you,
I had a choice before I came.
I could have been an aluminum ladder
in case the neighbors house caught on fire.
Or maybe one of those chocolate Labs
who gets to dig people out of rubble,
and be on every local TV station.
I could have been a handsome life guard
watching for that shark fin.
I thought about the joys of listening.
How it fills the heart.
So, I became a pansy.
Uncomplicated. Accessible. Trouble-free.
A little red and yellow flower,
living a simple life with my good friends,
in the dirt, in a pot.
Waking up in the morning. Just like you.
Drinking water. Just like you.
Needing the Sun
and his total affection, just like you.
A pansy listens.
Doesn’t give unsolicited advice or strong opinions.
We use our ears wisely,
as if we are royalty.
Think of us pansies
as those wonderful vanilla ice cream cones
you’ve enjoyed in the heat,
at a summer fair.
A pansy’s job
is to melt sorrow out of every human heart.
Nancy Lee Melmon - Poems can be like my Southwest cedar firewood. Once we read poems out loud, a spark can catch fire in the heart, and stay lit as long as we live, giving insights, courage and fierce hope every day…. Nancy Lee lives in Sedona, AZ with the quail, vanilla full moons, coyotes, cacti, and yellow and white jasmine vines as her true friends and as heady perfume for the soul. Melmon is quite happy to have the honor to be one of the six visionary poets in Dreams and Blessings by Blue Light Press - 2020. She is very proud too to be in the book Canyon, River, Stone and Light - 2021 - poems inspired by music, art, photography, sculpture and dance, inspired by a BLP Summer Workshop by BLP and book complied graciously by Jennifer Lagier. Nancy is published in the anthology, Pandemic Puzzle Poems selected by Diane Frank and Prartho Sereno, and published by Blue Light Press - 2021. Plus, Carrying the Branch - Poets in Search of Peace, by Glass Lyre Press - 2017.