Hard Times

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Times are so hard
I must plow my
Garden’s furrows
Using a spoon.
Scarabs roll away
The fertilizer
And doves peacefully
Eat all the seed.
I harvest from my
Rocking chair,
‘Cause nothing
Is there.
Sweeping’s a chore,
For I must use
My toothbrush,
Which leaves my
Teeth all snaggly,
And to trim the
Grass my scissors
Must do.
The walkway is
Deep gluey mud,
And the road bed?
It’s loose
Blowing sand.
My life is in files
All numbered thirteen.
But I am blessed,
Oh so blessed,
As long as chlorophyll
And my eyes
Are still green,
And tiny arms hug.
Oh the joy that
Children are both
Heard and seen.
.
.
Bear … 06.07.2015
ⓒBearspawprint2015

GRANNY (me) with Photographer (Granddaughter) reflected twice in the sunglasses  ⓒBackSeatPhotography2014

GRANNY (me) with Photographer (Granddaughter) reflected twice in the sunglasses ⓒBackSeatPhotography2014

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16 comments on “Hard Times

  1. 1EarthUnited says:

    Beautiful, i love your beatnik poetry, and the fabulous vibe from smile. 🙂

    Like

  2. casandralee says:

    grand! Chaotic life shall not hinder the utter magic of existence:)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. willowdot21 says:

    OH! Granny what big sunglasses you have!! Sod the work play with the grandchildren … I rarely get the chance! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Tiny arms hugging. Ahhh. Thanks for that reminder.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. ĽAdelaide says:

    You moved me to tears with this one… I hear you deep in my heart and your words echo what is in my heart. I yearn for those tiny arms… My gratitude for your morning gift.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. georgetteann says:

    Beautiful words and photo! 💕

    Liked by 1 person

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