Thoughts of a Summer Day
Enjoying the Seasons of Fun in the Sun
All our children, three daughters, and four sons
make a very colorful mother's ring.
The beauty, the color, the four seasons,
We all love fall, winter, summer, and spring.
Brilliant orange, yellow, reds, and brown of Fall.
We handle the frost when it’s all about,
A time to enjoy the outdoors and all.
We even relish the snow and cold bout.
Spring is great, start to plant and watch buds grow.
Flowers, and plants, flies and ants, it’s summer.
Summer brings us to picnics and we know
the sun is bright, and light, not a bummer.
Little Red, my motor bike, I will ride
My man on Blue Hulk riding by my side.
About the Creator
Denise E Lindquist
I am married with 7 children, 27 grands, and 12 great-grandchildren. I am a culture consultant part-time. I write A Poem a Day in February for 8 years now. I wrote 4 - 50,000 word stories in NaNoWriMo. I write on Vocal/Medium weekly.
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Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis5 days ago in Humans
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