Laying on the glider

on Sis's front porch

No wall's

No ceilings

To block my view

Just the sound of a soft breeze

whistling through the

sweet plum tree

Bring's back memory's

of white blossom's come spring

and the taste of plum's

come June

If Mr. Squirrel

will leave just a few for me

Kiamichi Mountain Range

running East and West

all I have to do is turn my head

Buffalo Mountains to the North

and Potatoe hills a few miles

 down the road

I'm not sure heaven could

  offer more

Kiamichi's look blue grey

and sort of misty

Maybe five miles away

surely no more

Leave's of every hew and color

Reds, browns, silver, yellow and gold

Some of the tree's

I don't even know

Mr. Squirrel hopping from

branch to branch

Mrs. Squirrel sit's chattering

upon a really tall Red Oak

What's That?

Oh how very nice

She threw me a nut!

She missed though,

 and it hit me on my butt!

Hunters are out

in their camo and orange vest

Looking to take home the very best

Wanting a 10 point

but they always seem to settle

 for much less

Bobcat's and Bear's

you can hear most any night

scarry enough to make you

lock up tight

Rabbits caught in a hand made snare

I heard him scream

he was really scared

hope someone releases

him before dark

might ought to end this

mental walk

Momma bear fat with cubs

wrinkling and sniffling

her big black nose

in search of food

 before the snow

If she spots me

there better be a big strong oak tree

Cause I'll need one

that will bare the weight of me

Big blue sky over head

fluffy clouds came drifting by

It's a Treat

A Beauty

to these big brown eyes

I think I saw a bear,

there's a duck

and look there's

 that big old 10 point Buck

guess  he must have run low on luck

I saw a boat, and an old Nanny Goat

and as I watched

it made me wonder

if just maybe,

it was their last attempt

to bid this world goodbye

anyway,

 thats how it all played out

to my now sleep eyes

So, I'll close up my pages

and recap my pen

lift myself up

and

carry me in

to read over these memory's

again and again

©2005 Tina Clark