by Donna Van Cleve
Oh, how you are loved, little one,
Before you arrived
Before we knew the color of your eyes,
Before we heard your first precious cry,
We felt you move, we felt your kicks,
We felt little hiccups, like tiny clock ticks.
Oh, how you are loved, little one,
Before your limbs were finely unfurled,
Before we knew you were a boy or a girl,
Before you finally saw this world,
I sewed a quilt; we brought you stuffed toys;
We readied your room; it gave us such joy.
Oh, how you are loved, little one,
Before we knew the day you came,
Before we even knew your name,
Before we played the patty-cake game,
We loved your momma and your daddy, too,
Because they were our little ones before there was you.
In honor of her first grandchild, Audrie Xane Roeder, born January 7, 2001
by Donna Van Cleve
It's there...
waiting patiently through the drought
buried, unseen
'neath the hard-packed ground...
silent, trapped...
waiting patiently for the key
to freedom, to life...
Drip...
what's that?
drop...
something in the keyhole?
splatter, spill, pour
AWAKEN!
soak, steam, swell
BURST!
S-t-r-e-t-c-h...
and open the door
arise
and reach for the light
breathe, feed, gro
BUZZ!
sprout, bud, blossom
BEAUTY!
Heat...
enough is enough
Wind...
it's passed too quickly!
thirst, shrink, shrivel
SNAP!
shudder, fall, scatter,
STOMP!
They're there...
waiting patiently through the drought
buried, unseen
'neath the hard-packed ground...
silent, trapped...
waiting patiently for the key.
by Donna Van Cleve
It was there all the time,
Seamlessly imbedded,
Content to let its host
Take the credit.
I just thought
It was simply a song,
Or a line from a play,
Or a commercial jingle.
I should have known it was more
When it reached out
And grabbed my heart.
It was Poetry under a different name.
And it was all around me
When I opened my eyes.
by Donna Van Cleve
From where did you come,
Little baby of mine?
Some say a stork
Brought you right on time.
But you're not a stork
With a long, pointed beak;
Your nose is a button,
And you don't even squeak
And look at your legs,
All curled and plump--
Not at all like that skinney-legged
Bird on a stump.
You have no feathers
To clothe your outside,
Just soft, warm skin
For me to nuzzle with pride.
Oh! I'm mistaken!
The stork's not your momma?
Well, that's a relief
In this fine-feathered drama.
So this bird just delivered
My baby, you say?
My goodness, how easy!
Send another this way!
The Night Before Halloween
By Donna Casey back in the dark ages
'Twas the night before Halloween
And all through the room
A few creatures were stirring and
In the corner was a broom.
It was very old-fashioned
And looked used very much,
But I had a feeling
It was not to be touched.
Then out of nowhere
Came a dark, little lady;
She was dressed in black
And her name was Sadie.
She stomped around the room
And stared with red eyes.
She grabbed the old broom
And soared away in the skies.
Now Halloween is over
And all the fun is gone,
But back in that same little room,
The witch's broom stands alone.