Envy of the Mischievious Marauder

ENVY OF THE MISCHIEVOUS MARAUDERS

It’s an early muddled morn on a snowy winter day

Undeterred the bushy tailed knaves are at play

Among the pines beyond the pane of frosty window glass

As I watch in amazement slumped in a pajama-ed morass

I envy their whimsical tricks on the limbs bowed with snow

Their antics unaffected by the watchful cat below

As they walk the swaying branches like agile tightrope walkers

They refuse intimidation by their obvious waiting stalkers

They leap and spring with unbridled “mischievity”

For this they show enviable proclivity

As I can only huddle here and dream of how it must be

To live life high in the oaks and laugh at humanity

c l schrage

OLD MAN WINTER
Hear the old man’s wily whisper echo as he draws near
The thud of frosty footsteps---his visage comes crystal clear
No mystery that jagged breath on the northern gale
The deep guttural gasps can make Beelzebub’s soul turn pale
His long icy digits grasp the hemlocks and glass the lagoon
As he settles in and sprawls out under a gossamer moon
The old man’s mane lies glistening like diadems in the night
As all beings are bade breathless by such an ethereal sight
No creature doubts the power of this oracle of old
The breadth of his mighty shadow ---makes a brave man’s blood run cold
One wave of his fabled fist can topple towering, timberline trees
Seize up rushing rapids and bring the whole world to her knees
He may seem old and weary but all wise souls take heed
Old man winter is still a demon
Who lives by his own creed.
Aye he lives by his own creed.

C. L. Schrage

Homage to the flame haired gypsy . . .

Autumn dances across the plains, her copper tresses brushing against the leaves on the trees as she passes.
She entices all with her beauty wantonly whispering that she will linger
Even as we are awed by the brilliance of her halcyon reflections in the lake
The blackbirds congregate and cry out as they perch mottled amidst the jingling of the golden coins on the poplars
Their anxious cacophony announces that they are not deceived by such a majestic charade
They know too well her familiar calling cards and gather to begin their long trek southward
Although the flame haired temptress beckons them to stay and bask in her warmth
But the winged warriors know that autumn is a beguiling beauty whose temperament can be very fickle, restless and fleeting.
One moment her warm breath and unequaled splendor have conquered the landscape
With the turn of her heel the foreboding winds and driving rain of early winter arrive as a reminder that the old man cannot be far behind
And all that is left of the restless gypsy is the rustle of her crimson petticoats that have left their remnants scattered on the ground as a bittersweet reminder of her once blazing glory and hypnotic dance upon the landscape . . .

Alas now but a smoldering memory in the vermillion haze of the sunset---she has vanished.

                                                        C. L. Schrage

Protein Cocktail Elixir – Secret of Longevity? » Right Juris

Protein Cocktail Elixir – Secret of Longevity? » Right Juris

From Longfellow's Evangeline . . .

NOW had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.
Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound,
Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands.
Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of September
Wrestled the trees of the forests, as Jacob of old with the angel.
All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement.
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey
Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes.
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful season,
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.