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POEMS FOR WEEK OF AUGUST 12, 2001
WATER MUSIC
Jonnie R. Wilkinson
August 1998
Rushing o'er the rocks and silt, water wends its way,
Children, laughing in a pool, play away the day.
Nature's music, sweet and pure, listen to its tones,
Symphony of gravity, water, air, and stones.
"Swoosh, plink plunk, swish, gurgle woosh, tinkle, glug, galop,
Tinkle tinkle, glub glub, whirhhh, plink plunk, swoosh, plip, plop."
My rendition, poor it is, of a water aire,
Played on earth's own instruments, it is music fair.
I could listen all day long in this peaceful place,
Leave behind the strife of life and its hellish pace.
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Upper Silver Creek, Mt. Timpanogos
mid summer |
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THE RIVER
Jonnie R. Wilkinson
September 1997
In the springtime waters gush,
Renewed by mountain snow.
Big logs, small twigs are sent afloat
Like ships and smaller boats.
Throwing rocks like missiles
T'ward the vessels as they rush.
Tiring of the exercise,
Lie down to hear the hush
Of quiet breezes in the trees,
Breathe the scent of flow'ring bush.
Later, in the summer heat,
The river's level low,
It's cut-off jeans and swimming holes,
And splashing in the shoals.
Stepping slow and careful,
Feeling moss beneath our feet,
Searching for a special place
Which expectations meet,
To make a place for swim and splash
Where the swelt'ring heat is beat.
A week or two in summer,
Unpleasant time to bear,
When trout fly larva leave the shell
It's worse than Dante's hell!
Millions blanket bridges,
And riverbanks they cover.
Now, instead of log as ship,
Trout fly as a bomber,
And rocks fill just as well the role
Of ground to airborne mortar.
In the fall, though leaves are shed,
Woods provide a haven.
There's time to build a tree house high
Before the winter sky.
Not much, as houses go,
Yet, above the riverbed,
Struggling stream is better seen,
Its water slowly led
Away into the shallow lake,
Leaves the river nearly dead.
In winter water trickles
With snow upon the rocks.
It's time to dream of Christmas things,
And all the season brings.
High above the river,
Branches hang with icicles,
Waiting silently for springtime,
And the splash and tickles
While kids frolic in the water,
When the sunny summer prickles.
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MOUNTAIN HOME
Jonnie R. Wilkinson
September 1997
Trickling, tinkling, sprinkling stream
Sparkling 'neath the bright sun's beam.
Majestic, massive mountain peak
Towering o'er the valley meek.
Teetering, tottering in the breeze,
Creaking, cracking tall pine trees.
Mountain home so dear to me,
'Tis the place I'll always be
In my heart, in my mind,
Even though myself I find
Far away from home.
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Our younger daughter, Erin, age 7, with our grandsons, Ryan, 4, and Jared, 2
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Lower Silver Creek, Mt. Timpanogos
late spring |
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