The Eighth Of September

Author's Note: On every eighth of the month, my writing group rhymes. I am including a few of my favorites for you today. We have 5 regulars for this and many more for Poem A Day In February, or PaDiF.

Cheryl Babcock: I drove in a storm, it made me all cozy and warm.

The lights were flashing as the clouds began their crashing high up in the sky as I continued to drive on by, it's as if time was flying as I glanced at the sky. Once again, theres that light high up in the sky, with a thunder and a bang as I began to sigh, another day is just about to pass me by.

The puddles were building as the sky lit up, shining a path, while the thunder was crashing as my car was thrashing, I felt it fighting to stay aligned, as well as the wipers as they flung on by. I am almost home after a day out on roam.

Now I am relaxing as I stare at this phone! Its time to rest! Goodnight to all, as I wish you the best.

Denise: Awesome ❤️ Sounds scary and then some! So glad you are home and not still on the roam. I got up as the windows in my room shook and I couldn't read my book. It settled down enough to sleep then you couldn't hear a peep from me until now. Thank you for joining in with your driver's wow!

~~

Ricing, by Jenny Wettersten

Wild Rice. Manoomin.

Ricing together, two women.

It’s hot and buggy and I’m tired and sore.

Motor boats speed by with a roar.

In places it is sparse in places we get stuck.

“Loon shit” we call it, politely, it’s “muck.”

Why do we do this laborious task?

It ain’t cheap; it’s fair to ask.

On the water, in our canoe.

No phones, no work, just me and you.

We are harvesting an ancient grain,

We did not plant it; we did not strain.

It’s nature’s bounty that will grace our plate.

We harvest what’s ripe so the seeds will germinate.

Canoe, flails, and push-pull.

That’s how we role.

Much the same as days gone by.

We’re inefficient but we sure do try.

The nutritious food that grows on water.

This resilient plant, it’s much more than fodder.

Harvesting rice is spiritually fulfilling.

It feeds us body and soul, often enough for giving.

Arthritis and age not-with-standing,

Next year we’ll be back at the landing.

~~

~September cold~ by JennLee Sawatzky

Cold weather is coming in fast,

Wishing more of summer would last!

I’m gettin ready for a snowy winter,

That hits the bone like a splinter!

Button down the hatches…

Harvesting all that the basket catches!

Hurry hurry get down to the lake,

Don’t you realize what’s at stake???

The cold will hit us fast this year…

Time won’t slow down for anyone here!

Better get in the sun soak up all you can,

Go for that swim and catch that tan!!!

Chop an split wood for logs on the fire,

Grab a loved one & all the snacks you desire!

For it’s gonna be a blustery blizzard ahead…

though it’s the thaw and rainy melting I dread!!!

Yet after the melt the green leaves come in,

Flowers begin to bloom a spring can begin!

This is the way of the season ever changing,

The reasons unlimited for constant rearranging!

Denise: Wouldn't it be nice if it all went so fast. I'm afraid that winter will last and last. Fall is beginning, and winter will not end until the last blast. Spring will be here only after winter seems to be here forever. Wouldn't it be nice if your rhyme were the real way it is now and ever after.