[JustAmy]

The Mighty Saguaro

The mighty saguaro,
so majestic and tall,
holds its lifelong secrets
surprising one and all.

The seedling saguaro
begins small and afraid,
hoping it will survive
beneath the nurse plant's shade.

The tiny saguaro
grows a little each year,
searching for the water
which is precious and dear.

The struggling saguaro
pushes upward for days,
glad it keeps avoiding
a new herbivore's gaze.

The lucky saguaro
survives the desert heat,
outliving the nurse plant
not knowing of its feat.

The patient saguaro
looks skyward at all hours,
until at age fifty
it produces first flowers.

The giving saguaro
shares its bounty with all
who wait for months on end
for tasty fruits to fall.

The youthful saguaro
knows at seventy-five
that its newly formed arms
keeps desert friends alive.

The aging saguaro
has been a willing friend
to desert's small creatures
dependent to the end.

The mighty saguaro
grows to fifty feet high,
waiting two hundred years
to almost touch the sky.

Debbie Emery
2002

[NicknamedBob]

This is a good opportunity for this one:

A Father’s Question

I used to ask my daughters,
And you may want to know,
When you were up in Heaven,
Before you came below,

Did you think about hair color,
And choose the one for you?
Did you decide about your feet,
So they’d fit your favorite shoe?

Did you choose your own eye-color?
(You made a perfect choice!)
And did anyone help you with,
Your sweet angelic voice?

Did you consider how you’d look,
When you would try to smile?
And just where did you come upon,
That heavenly profile?

And while you were considering,
Your choices about those,
While you were waiting up above,
Did you really pick your nose?

NicknamedBob . . . . March 29, 2004

[OESY]

Canyon, cactus

The more enduring stone,
lifting to the sun
praising arms
carved and cleansed
by endless water.

The weaker rock,
beaten to sand,
taught by a seed
to drink the sun
and seldom rain
and raise itself
in supplication.

-- Anon.

[OESY]

[Elenheru]

Poetry huh? OK how do you like mine?

So much depends upon the grey rain flowing over the scorched meadows. -Elenheru

I sit beside the road of matchmaking with the cars passing by, I stick out my thumb or perhaps I don't, just waiting for the right car to come move me, my life, others chase the cars as they come by but I, I wait, wait for that one car; no matter what the color, what the accessory, what the style just that one car... -Elenheru