Posts filed under ‘Aileen Fisher’
The Seed
How does it know,
this little seed,
if it is to grow
to a flower or weed,
If it is to be
a vine or shoot,
or grow to a tree
with a long deep root?
A seed is so small,
where do you suppose
it stores up all
of the things it knows?
Package of Seeds
They can’t see their pictures,
they can’t read the label –
the seeds in a package –
so how are they able
to know if they’re daisies
or green for the table?
It sounds like a fancy,
it sounds like a fable,
but you do the sowing,
the weeding, the hoeing,
and they’ll do the knowing
of how to be growing.
Thanksgiving Dinner
With company coming,
there’s always before:
shine up the silver,
sweep up the floor,
corn and red peppers
to hang by the door,
salad to garnish
and water to pour,
sample the dressing
and gravy one more …
Listen!
They’re coming!
Oh, run to the door!
All in a Word
T
for time to be together,
turkey, talk, and tangy weather.
H
for harvest stored away,
home, and hearth, and holiday.
A
for autumn’s frosty art,
and abundance in the heart.
N
for neighbors, and November,
nice things, new things to remember.
K
for kitchen, kettles’ croon,
kith and kin expected soon.
S
for sizzles, sights, and sounds,
and something special that abounds.
That spells THANKS–for joy in living
and a jolly good Thanksgiving.
Windy Tree
Think of the muscles
a tall tree grows
in its leg, in its foot,
in its wide-spread toes -
not to tip over
and fall on its nose
when a wild wind hustles
and tussels and blows.—
Open House
If I were a tree
I’d want to see
a bird with a song
on a branch of me.
I’d want a quick
little squirrel to run
up and down
and around, for fun.
I’d want the cub
of a bear to call,
and a porcupine, big,
and a tree toad, small.
I’d want a katydid
out of sight
on one of my leaves
to sing at night.
And down by my roots
I’d want a mouse
with six little mouselings
in her house.
Trees
Trees just stand around all day
and sun themselves and rest.
They never walk or run away
and surely that is best.
For otherwise how would a
squirrel or robin find its nest?
Pussy Willows
Close your eyes
and do not peek
and I’ll rub Spring,
across your cheek-
smooth as satin,
soft and sleek-
close your eyes
and do not peek.
