Ever wonder about Johnny Appleseed? He was born in 1774, in Massachusetts.
He was an American pioneer, a nurseryman, and a missionary. Also, he became a living legend!
Another thing cool about Johnny Appleseed: he had a special affection for animals.
Select the second line of this haiku (read below) and you can learn more about this extraordinary fellow. Also, see a Johnny Appleseed Blessing (by an anonymous author).
Have you ever tried to grow Okra? It is tricky in Michigan because of the cool temps we get, even in the summer. I have had some success over the years, and some monumental failures. Today’s high temp in Owosso will be approximately 90 degrees. I am excited, but mostly for my beloved friends, Ron and Glenda Davis, who hail from Alabama.
When I do have successful Okra years, Ron and Glenda are the beneficiaries (I keep a little for my household, but most of it goes to my friends). For Okra success, as in in all things vegetable and fruit in my garden, all the glory goes to God, for He blesses the fruit of my labor.
And here it is, dedicated to Ron & Glenda, my Ode to the Jewel of Alabama, a haiku just for you.
Have you ever watched an animal which appears to be engaged in deep thought?
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to hibernate? What if you had a dream which lasted four months? And what if that dream was all about the love of your life?
This is the spirit in which this poem is written. I hope you enjoy “Meditation on Woodchuck.”
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This poem by Lauren Smith, who is a standout in my Modern Lit class, is an honest assessment of the power of words. In its brevity and casual tone, it stands out as a testament and admonishment to all: choose your words wisely, and know that the tongue wields fire and honey. What’s in a word? Peace, beauty, redemption, and love…but also dissent, cruelty, murder, and death. I love this poem. I hope you enjoy “Words.”
What’s in a name, and how do you want yours to be remembered? I remember a hot June day in 2000, searching for my great, great, great grandfather’s grave. I started in Wiltshire with county records of births, baptisms, and deaths, and I ended up scouring every cemetery in Trowbridge. And late in the afternoon, there it was: in a tiny Baptist Parish cemetery, I found it: his headstone, weather-worn and barely perceptible: Samuel Lindsey. All I had known about him was that he was a Scottish Sailor, and he died in Trowbridge.
After a grueling search I stopped in a small pub near the train station to celebrate my discovery with a pint of cider: “Here’s to you, Sam…RIP.” And I dedicate this haiku to you, in memory of your short time on earth.
Carmina ad Gloriae Dei 