Animals/Insects

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Gardens, Seasons, Stories, Time

Heat Hangs in the Air

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Heat hangs in the air.

A sticky bog to slog, move forward.

Dampening shirts, drying mouths.

But, animals go about their business.

Nary a complaint.

Robins, wrens chirp as though in competition.

Ducks, geese gather by the pond.

A fawn gazes up at me from a bush.

As though sorry I’m wading through goo.

A few Poplar seedpods float by.

Inviting me to make a wish or two.

A pink and gray butterfly hovers atop a coneflower.

The beebalm planted last summer, sings triumphant.

Stretching out and up in glorious profusion.

Red, pink, lavender mops.

Tall rag dolls, hair unkempt, in strings.

Covering eyes, noses, mouths.

Mysterious, exotic.

Waving honey bees in to drink.

Sweet nectar quenching thirst.

Could they spread the word to hummingbirds

before summer days dispersed?

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 27, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Farewell, Loss, Natural Beauty, Plants, Pleasure, Seasons

Summer Solstice Arrives

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Summer solstice arrives.

Soaring into the heart of June.

Longest day of the year.

For butterflies, bees, chipmunks.

For me.

Lover of natural illumination.

Walks at dawn and dusk.

With a Tilley hemp hat upon my head.

Tipping it to the sun.

As we tilt closer.

Like I would a glass of champagne.

Celebrating natural milestones.

Red and pink beebalm blooms.

Lips wide, enticing winged creatures.

Bright orange butterfly weed.

Beckoning monarchs, swallowtails.

Linden blooms carpeting lawns.

For queens and princesses to tread.

Mulberries hanging heavy on branches.

Staining streets as they fall.

Congregations of day lilies praying.

Tiny green lemons bursting to life.

Frogs bellowing mating calls.

Does gazing upwards quizzically.

Baby geese growing as large as parents.

Ready to take wing.

Each scene, a piece of the jigsaw.

Filling in the frame of bright June days.

Do plants and animals tire of so much light?

Are they hungrier, thirstier?

Or are they greedy like me?

Wanting to seize sunbeams?

Already sad to bid the solstice farewell.

Bit by bit what’s sunlit will fade.

As earth slips away from sun.

Shorter days bringing nighttime shade.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 22, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Stories, Worry

Turtle

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I was finishing my morning walk.

When I saw the turtle.

Sitting in the middle of the street.

Large, green, ponderous.

Lichen sticking to its shell, a patina.

Oh no, I thought, as I ran toward it.

To pluck it from its precarious place.

Just as a huge white truck started turning toward us.

I jumped into the road.

Waving arms, pointing, shouting, stop.

The driver slammed on his brakes.

Exited the cab of the vehicle.

Be careful, I wagged my forefinger again toward the turtle.

Could you put it back on the lawn? I asked politely.

But, the man spoke quickly.

Explaining he had five turtles in his yard at home.

He wanted to take this one to add to the collection.

My heart started racing.

My head spun.

As I’m an advocate for animal freedom.

Wild creatures belong in the wild.

But there was no stopping him.

He lifted the reptile.

Tucked it into his trunk.

Leaving my thoughts in pieces.

I wished the turtle to be safe,

near a grassy, leafy pond.

Close to all its relatives,

near to where it spawned. 

But, if it wanders into traffic,

like a careless vagabond,

then anyone who comes along,

with the tortoise could abscond.

Though my worries flocked like starlings,

fretting I could be conned,

he might get the protection he needs

postponing the great beyond.

I reassured myself

the man knew how to bond.

The old turtle would be content.

Of his new home grow fond.

The living space would be charming,

elegant, well adorned.

Elevating the old creature

to pizazz in beau monde.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 20, 2024

Beau monde is the world of high society.

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Food, For Children, Gym/exercise, Holidays, Juneteenth

The Gym Was Closed

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I knew the gym was closed today.

But, it didn’t occur to me, the university as well.

To commemorate Juneteenth.

When Major General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston, Texas.

On June 19, 1865.

To inform the people, the Civil War, over.

Won by Union troops.

Bringing the executive order to declare slaves freed.

Over the years, becoming a folk holiday for African Americans.

Made federally official in 2021 by President Joe Biden.

Closing schools, post offices, banks.

To honor this second Independence Day.

Proclaiming the end of human bondage in the United States.

So, upon arising, I realized I had a job to do.

One I had forgotten.

For the usual goose feeder would not come to work.

To deliver her morning treats.

I hurried to locate cereal, a bag.

To carry to the empty parking lot at Salus.

Where, indeed, the seven geese waited.

Two parents, five goslings.

Now as tall, plump, feathered as their creators.

Indistinguishable, in fact.

Until I rattled the bag.

Five teenagers scampering after me, ahead of their parents.

Conditioned by the sound to chase the cheerio pick-me-up.

Squealing in delight.

Racing after the bounty I scattered.

I, crooning in my high-pitched Mommy voice: You’re getting soooo big. Okay, here it comes!

I rejoice the geese are free

to wander as they please,

settle down, rear their young

without inhumanities.

Lynn Benjamin

June 19, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Disappointment, Food, For Children, Humor, Stories

Running Low on Cheerios

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The weekend rolled in.

A smooth, expected wave.

My turn to feed geese.

Still hanging out at the pond.

Goslings, grown, almost indistinguishable from parents.

Maybe adolescents now.

Waddling further afield.

As grownups look on.

Giving them space.

To peck for more to eat.

Just like typical teens.

But, yesterday, I scattered the last of the cheerios.

Bob, reassuring me, we had another cereal for today.

An old stale one from months ago.

Before settling into bed, he ran downstairs to find it.

Opened the pantry, searched.

I must have tossed it out, he apologized.

Now what? I shrugged.

Thinking of my weekend charges, their disappointment.

So, he ransacked the closet further.

Finding two plastic containers holding cheerios.

Packed, ready for a grandchild to munch on a car ride.

Also, pulling out rice crackers, other assorted possibilities.

For me to collect in the morning.

Put into a brown paper bag.

The geese didn’t know the effort it took

to assemble their early treat.

As they raced to compete for toasted oats,

half flying, half on fleet feet.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 10, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Creation, For Children, Humor, Natural Beauty, Stories

The Doe

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The doe surprised me.

Holding her own on the forest floor.

Munching plants, then peering up at me.

As if to ask what I was doing there.

Upon the deck above.

Laying out flatware, glasses.

Readying a table for two.

An hour before the sun due to set.

After all, she had more claim to the space than I.

A newcomer, of only four years.

What did I have to offer?

Certainly, not shade in sweltering heat.

Like empress and linden trees.

Not aromas to match honeysuckle blooms.

Wasn’t I a disturbance to the robin’s nest?

In the leafy brush atop the fence?

I think the doe’s points, good.

Though one thing she did not know.

I, with camera, pen in hand,

could record the lush tableau.

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 4, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Emotions, Food, Humor, Loss, Stories

Day of Lamentation

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It was a day of lamentation.

Rabbits ate the peas. The deer, cucumbers, eggplants.

Bob intoned at intervals.

Punctuated by, it makes me sad.

It’s true, he worked hard potting those plants.

In tidy rows outback.

Where, in years past, no animals bothered them.

But, once he put peas downstairs, they lured other forest friends.

So, by the end of the day, his crops, nearly decimated.

So, too, his spirits.

Which he soothed, shelling peas.

Picked up this morning at a local farmer’s market.

Also, by harvesting the first purslane.

Grown on the deck above the pillaged produce.

Then serving peas, purslane with dinner outside.

Listening to avian concerts.

Ignoring the garlic and rotten egg odor.

Laid down below to repel deer.

Then taking a walk through perfumed lanes.

Honeysuckles, magnolias, Japanese lilacs.

Instant aha in nature’s hall.

In the scheme, what’s lost is small.

Did you hear the sacred call?

Give the hungry green coleslaw!

 

Lynn Benjamin

June 2, 2024

 

 

All Poems, Animals/Insects, For Children, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Seasons, Stories

May is Full of Stories

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May is full of stories.

Unfolding faster than you can keep up.

Just when one ends, another reveals itself.

Grabbing your attention.

Goslings getting plump, growing gray feathers.

Soon to fly away.

Frogs, silent only days ago, now bellowing for mates.

Cardinals, robins, sparrows cavorting among trees.

Singing to the wind and each other.

A red fox darting about.

Crisscrossing driveways, hiding behind houses.

Chipmunks, squirrels, bunnies playing tag.

Underneath bushes, in gardens.

Breezes swirling with perfumes.

Mixing, mingling.

Magnolias and roses, lavender and rosemary.

Clumps of yellow daylilies.

Hydrangeas carrying bouquets.

Peonies, wisteria, wild roses, comfrey.

The earth sings and dances just for us.

Bursts out in hues and smells.

Enchants, enthralls, no need for words.

Absorbs us in its spells.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 29, 2024

Aging, All Poems, Animals/Insects, Change, Natural Beauty, Seasons, Time, Trees

I Shake my Head

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I shake my head at my youthful self.

Longing to stay in bed till nine.

Despite sunshine poking through panes.

For now, when I see first gleams of light, I sit straight up.

Wanting to catch them.

Jump forward, follow them.

Close the door behind me.

Bask in sights, smells.

Linden leaves, roses.

Lilacs, honeysuckles.

Rhythms of the season.

Caws, cheeps, trills.

Honks, hammers, vibratos.

Early rising birds.

Claiming soil, sky.

I want to hear morning symphonies.

Inhale perfumed lands.

Before the rush of traffic.

Humming engines, shrieking brakes.

Students parking cars.

Rushing toward classes.

Before the goose family arises.

Hatchlings in a comfy ball.

Fuzz greying into feathers.

Before the day swings underway.

Wakes up, stretches, yawns.

How much time have I left to find?

How many unspent dawns?

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 25, 2024

All Poems, Animals/Insects, Disappointment, Food, For Children, Gardens, Humor, Seasons, Stories

What Happened to the Peas?

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What happened to the peas? asked Bob.

Seeing them pushed over, flattened.

After climbing lush, green, tall.

Was it the rain the night before?

Battering them down?

Leveling them?

It couldn’t be deer.

For all the deterrents laid.

Maybe bunnies.

Nibbling to nubs.

Leaving nothing for groundhogs.

Insects, birds.

Nothing for us, this season.

Last year’s pods, prolific.

Sitting on the deck flowering, fruiting.

Away from reach of rabbits.

Moved downstairs to the back yard.

Where hungry creatures forage.

Making more space above.

Surely, these rabbits trampling peas

have a fine gourmet palate.

I hope they reject cucumber leaves

for their next May time salad.

Our sacrifice, contribution

to well-being of cottontails.

We owe them hearty ovation

for attention to green details.

 

Lynn Benjamin

May 24, 2024