Friends and loved ones, something is a-blowin’ in the wind. No not figuratively. Something is literally blowing in the wind and aggravating my sinuses. Boo. Hiss. I had to take to my bed yesterday when there was only forensic evidence on The Trial. It was dull.
I think we’d better have two poems today. They’re short. One is for our blogger-friend Jeremy J who purchased milk in the wrong color container. Well, he thought it was right, but it contained the wrong milk. Well, it was the right milk, but . . . maybe you had to be there. Let’s just say, it never would have happened if he had a milkman.
Trot, trot, trot upon the street.
Listen to the horses’ iron-shod feet
Bringing milk for me and you!
If there were no milkmen,
Oh! What would we do!
Farms are sometimes far from town and city, too.
Okay, I’ve become a fan of Harriet, but I sort of feel like she just gave up on that last line.
Here’s one for our reader-friend Arizona Audrey who is wondering why she lives in Arizona in the summer. Her cry had a tone I think you hear from me in January . . . and February . . . and March . . . and sometimes into April. Hang in there, AzAud, remember in just a few short months you will still be hanging out by the pool whilst I go back to the basement to dig out those old friends my wool sweaters . . . and socks . . . and boots . . . and hats . . .
Leland B. Jacobs
Summer in a pleasant mood
At the school door smiling stood.
Smiling there she seemed to say,
“Come, it’s time for rest and play;
Time for swimming and baseball;
Time to heed my cheery call
Off to hills and meadows free,
Off to woodland camp, or sea;
Time for hobbies specially planned
For vacation’s wonderland;
Time for circus and parade;
Picnic time in park and glade.”
In her pleasant restful way,
Summer beckons all today.