~A Week Of Morning Poems~

A WEEK OF MORNING POEMS ~October 18 through October 24~ � Tom ([email protected])

~1~
~Friday Morning-18 October~

The transformer sings in the early morn, It sings as the current flows, Noisy and bothersome thing it is, But a necessity in our way of life.

I remember the milkman, six mornings a week, Remember him and his quarts of milk, But he with others are now All extinct.

The iceman in the heat of July, Blocks of ice to keep things cold, But now it in the grocery store, Located in a big cold machine.

All of the old things of which we enjoyed, Now have become null and void, Dropped for the new and near bizarre, That is the price of modern change.

But carrying water from the spring or well, And splitting wood and toting coal, Those are the things I do not miss, For these modern things, I sorely enjoy.

So as time marches on, I will admit I like most of them, But the one thing that is nearly lost, Is a family sitting down together at meals.

So as the furnace does run, and the dishwasher does its thing, I flush the toilet and grin in glee, No wild dashes out across the lot.

~2~
~Saturday morning-19 October~

Oh so black, black indeed, Is the early morning, to me? But as I the papers go to get, That lonesome wail I do hear.

The lonesome wail of a train whistle, Off in the distance there, And this morning would you believe, You could even hear the railroad cars.

Flat-sided wheels going thump, thump, thump, The sounds I did hear. And then I smiled as it dawned on me, How quiet it is right here.

I look up at the sky, and even it is kind of dark, For the morning light has not come nigh. But the starts, all three kajillion of them, Do twinkle and say, have a nice day.

~3~
Sunday morning-Oct 20

A bright full moon does hang to the west, Reflecting sunlight as if it were day, Making the early morn come with a smile, For it seems to be watching you.

Thin clouds do it accompany, But to the Norwest and further North, Just thin clouds, which accent the moon, A moon which would make a young man swoon.

Funny how where the moon seems to be, Just straight out and above the road from me. Just drive out the road and the moon is there, There at the end of Storey road.

And how a full moon does make me smile, Makes me smile and reminisce. But aw shucks, you know that yourself, Know that the moon, brings out the lover in you.

But after the dawn does come and go, And we settle into the day. Just think back of that big full moon, And maybe even, sing a tune.

~4~
Monday Morning, Oct 21

Full moon shining low in the West, Full moon accompanied by thin clouds, Full moon along with lots of stars, Gosh it is bright out there.

Moonbeam rays lighting up the wisp of clouds, Moonbeam rays lighting the trees, Moonbeam rays lighting the road, Oh how beautiful this early in the morn.

Not much moving or many out, Not many to see this glorious sight, But I just stand, look and smile, For old Tom is seeing real art.

Seeing God�s natural things, Seeing the things that cause romance, Seeing the things which are art to me, Seeing nature in its splendor.

So I sit and smile with that scene in my head, I sit and think of how fortunate I am, I know that others get to see it to, But only I am trying to relate it to you.

~5~
Tuesday Morning- 22 Oct

Wow, last night as the trash I took out, There just peeping above the hill, A big full moon, shining through the trees, And me just emptying trash.

And this morning, oh my oh my, That big full moon is up so high, Up there just above the paper boxes, So bright, there are moonshine shadows.

Funny that this time around, This lunar cycle I did notice, Cause I do know it is always there, But I am blinded by what is going on.

Large full moon fills the sky, Large full moon, makes me smile. Large full moon all should enjoy, For if you see, you will smile too.

~6~
Wednesday Morn, Oct 23

The furnace does run early on, And as out I go, A skiff of snow does cover the ground, And a stiff breeze is blowing round.

There is only white in the sky, none coming down but it is there. No moon, no stars and no contrails, It is an overcast morn.

A couple sparrows I hear in the bushes, Telling me they are still around. And later on this morn I should hear, A flock of geese heading south.

And as to the road I walk, Flakes of snow I do throw up, And ooooh oh , into my slipper it does get, And I know winter is nigh.

A bowl of hot oatmeal, with lots of raisins in it. And some buttered toast, will help me the papers read. And then I smile and think, of all of you, Giggling at me.

~7~
Thursday Morn, Oct 24

Crunch, crunch, crunch, is the noise my slippers make, As I walk on the snowy sidewalk. Crunch, crunch, crunch, I do hear, As I do in my little world look about.

For oh how beautiful, the pines and junipers Flocked in their coat of white, And the tree limbs which still have some leaves, Bend low with their added load.

Winter has come to McAllister Lane, As there are a couple inches of snow. Crunch, crunch, crunch, is the noise I hear. As I do my early morning thing.

Then I smile and then laugh, as a familiar noise I hear, The lonesome sound of that train, Three or four miles away. For a wonderland I do see, as I walk back inside.

Crunch, crunch, crunch is what I hear, As I must get the snow shovels out. But I just smile and think, It is a long time until spring.

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