Jeannine Gerkman, Author of Children's books, Poet, reviews delightful picture books
Boys on Bikes . Dressed in primary colors . Casually gather to chat . And revel in summer freedom
Clustered in slow motion . No one seems sure of . Where they are going . Or what they will do
Happy to just be together . No Agenda . No deadline . Just lazy sunshine . And a gentle breeze
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What if you could only turn right?
If left wasn’t an option?
Would you fuss and fume?
Curse the rules, refuse adoption?
Would you kick and scream, ”unfair…unfair”?
Pout due to fewer options from “here to there”?
Or would you just dig in and begin your “going”?
Adapt your map? Make allowances? Stop moaning?
See it as an opportunity for adventure or fun?
Look on the bright side, be creative and run?
Sometimes options are limited, threadbare or scarce
Roads will be narrow, bumpy or worse
But travel we must on this road through life.
So, make your turns wisely.
Avoid bitterness and strife.
Reject the unlawful and soon you’ll see.
Things will work out.
Go right! Yippee!
Their eyes were watching God
Considering his purposes
And making decisions
Children of blood and bone
Translating intentions
Into actions
War and peace
Fighting for supremacy
Each and every day
The color of water
In their tears
As they struggle
The Devil in a blue dress
Forever tempting
Disobedience
But the sun also rises
As they fight to do what’s right
And conquer the world
The sound and fury
Blocked out by God’s love
Shelters inner calm
It’s no Catch-22
Obeying God shapes the kind of joy
No one can snatch
December’s Pale Sun
Struggling through chill air
Barely warms my knees
The raccoon nibbles the acorn
The possum tastes the shoots
The rats dance the floorboards
Even the owl cuts loose
Softly, softly, rumble and skitter and moan
Under the gaze of the moon
They feed as if alone
Won’t relinquish ground too soon
The day crowd has had their fill
It’s now the night group’s time to shine
To savor tender branches
And strip produce from the vine
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Time to uncover grubs fat and juicy
And pluck fruits ripely fine
Mothers must feed babies
And everyone will dine
For then all the nocturnal species
Come out to frisk, frolic and glean
The little, big, and medium
As the world lays sleeping and serene
Nothing rhymes with Orange
And oh don’t I know it
There’s fruit with that hue
And people who grow it
They live farther south
In a sunnier clime
Growing orange and lemon
Pomelo and lime
They sell them on Sundays
By the railroad out back
Sell them by piece, by pound
Or by sack
They’ll cut them in wedges
To give you a savor
Delight in their sweet,
Juicy, tart and citrusy flavor
So come by and try them
Your sure to exult
If you don’t buy them
It won’t be my fault
Look for Leslie or Luis
Their colleague or friend
They’ve a booth at the Market
Down near the end.
jeanninegerkman 