tones of wooded sprouting leaves
sing the measure of the trees

they festive lift, and rustle, clap,
or silent sway, filled with sap

gorged and sated, a jewel they glow
the color of the sign to go

full of chlorophyll, the grass
screams of life as through stained-glass

filling up with greenhouse gas
while oxygen to us they pass

surrounding us with vital health
vegetation is eart...

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a little baby finger tickled
the large pot-belly,
but the heavy sleeper slept on,
out like a rock

the giggling tot
mischievously said, ‘again!’
wiggly-wormy fingers dug in,
but the loafer was idle,
simply a fat lump.

it’s well known, little kids don’t give up,
and indeed, not this little tyke
who thought the slumberer was playing,
pretending to ignore

with renewed resolve, the b...

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